Once Bitten
by RiP-Vii
Summary: Part I of my sevenpart series, The Legend. D bites a human girl by accident, and becomes responsible for her future. Rated for language, nudity, sexual references, sexual violence and suggestiveness.
1. The Survivor

_#Disclaimer: Vampire Hunter D belongs to Hideyuki Kikuchi and Urban Vision. I do not own it._

**The Legend I**

Once Bitten

_Vampire Hunter D Fan Fiction_

**Chapter 1: The Survivor**

The hunter who was known only as D entered the small stone shed. He had been hired to find the ten people who had been kidnapped from a town by a vampire and held within. It was day, and the vampire was naturally nowhere to be found.

The shed was deserted. Unperturbed, D went to the rough sackcloth rug in the middle of the shed and kicked it aside. The outline of a trapdoor was visible on the stone floor. Using his sword, D prised the trapdoor open.

A dank, musty odour rose from the secret passage under the shed floor. There was a ladder leading down into the ink-black darkness. Ignoring the ladder, D jumped into the opening.

The moment he landed, D heard a scream, quickly choked back. There were sounds of someone banging on something, then the sound of rotten wood giving way, followed by a loud crash. A similar series of sounds echoed down the dark tunnel.

A girl's voice called out from somewhere down the tunnel, "Oh, you bust the door too? Come on; let's make a break for it!"

There was an alarmed yelp by the same voice, followed by a thump and the sound of something cracking. "Shit, they're all vampires," D heard the girl swear.

Scuffling sounds, and the sound of someone running. A slender figure charged out of the darkness into the pool of dim light cast by the open trapdoor.

It was a girl. She could not have been more than sixteen years old. She was slim and petite; her head would barely reach D's shoulder if she stood next to him, and he could probably encircle her waist with an arm if he cared to. The dirt on her face did nothing to hide how pretty she was, with perfectly almond-shaped dark eyes framed with dark lashes under slim, arching brows. Her soft, perfectly straight black hair hung to the middle of her back.

She wore an off-shoulder black blouse with loose, slightly puffy long sleeves and fitting black pants belted at the hip with a silver-buckled black leather belt. Over the blouse she wore a moulded, strapless black leather vest laced all the way up the front with crisscrossing black ribbons knotted at her chest. On her feet were black leather ankle boots with thin stiletto heels made of metal that gleamed dark silver.

When she saw D, she froze in her tracks, despite the alarming scuffling sounds coming from behind her. D had that effect on people, especially females. The girl simply stood there and gazed upon him, the unbelievably gorgeous, deathly pale man in black who looked so young but radiated an unearthly aura so powerful …

The scuffling sounds got louder, and a snarl from one of her pursuers broke the girl free from the spell. Coming to her senses, she ran towards D, her face a mask of determination and rash, desperate courage.

"Get out of my way, vampire!" she yelled as she tried to charge past him.

She paled when D drew his sword and started forward. She stopped and flattened herself against the wall, desperate to avoid what she thought was an attack. Instead, the black blur that was D sped past her and through the gang of freshly changed vampires charging after her.

All she saw was a flash of bright silver, and all she heard was a strange, pulsing sort of whirring sound, almost as if D's sword was singing. The next thing she knew, all the vampires lay dead, nine of them. She was the sole survivor, out of the ten who had been taken.

She understood now. The beautiful man with the sword was no vampire. He was a hunter. A dhampir, she guessed. Hesitating, she moved towards the tall, lean figure standing in the middle of the ring of vampire corpses. She tried to avoid looking at the faces on the bodies. They had once been her neighbours, after all.

"Go outside," the hunter ordered. His voice was gentle and held not even a trace of fierceness, and yet it was commanding. Compelling, rather. "Climb the ladder and go outside, into the sunlight."

It was light outside. The girl turned to head for the ladder, but not before she saw the shadowy figure approaching slowly from deep within the underground passage. The female vampire, the one who had kidnapped her. Only the dhampir stood between the enraged vampire and the girl.

Without a backward glance, the girl ran, reached the ladder, and began to climb the rusty rungs. She heard the singing of the dhampir hunter's blade behind her, and the sneers of the female vampire. She yelped as one of the rungs broke off in her hand.

Nothing could explain what she did next. Hanging off the ladder on one hand, the girl hurled the broken rung at the female vampire. The vampire deflected the iron rod easily. With a screech of rage, she hurtled past the hunter and came at the girl like a tempest.

There was a quiet ripping sound, accompanied by the echoing song of the dhampir's sword. The vampire stopped short in midair, her claws mere inches from the girl's face. The end of the dhampir's blade protruded from the left side of the vampire's chest. Her face was frozen in a horrifying grimace, one that would haunt the girl's nightmares for a few weeks.

From behind, the dhampir hunter pulled his gore-stained sword out of the vampire's body. The lifeless corpse dropped to the ground, shrivelled, and finally became a scattering of dark dust. The hunter cleared the blood from his sword with a sharp, practiced flick before returning the blade to its sheath across his back.

"I … I want to go home," the girl said faintly. She was obviously in a state of shock.

D said nothing. He held out a hand and helped the girl down from the ruined ladder. Then, holding her with one arm, he leapt straight up out of the trapdoor. Once out, he set the girl down on her feet on the stone floor of the shed.

"Come. I'll take you home," D said, walking out of the shed ahead of her.

* * *

"I see. The rest of them had already been changed," the mayor said resignedly. "At least their souls have been put to rest. I can't thank you enough for bringing Vianne back to us. She's an orphan, and all of us have had a part in raising her. She is a well-loved child in this town." 

D accepted his payment without comment. He was aware of the girl called Vianne seated in a cushioned chair in the corner, drinking something hot from a mug and staring unwaveringly at him at the same time.

"You have rid the town of a serious threat," the mayor went on after a hesitant glance at Vianne. She had switched her gaze to him, and was looking expectant. "To show our appreciation, we would like to invite you to stay and enjoy our hospitality for a few days."

If D was surprised by the offer, he did not show it. It was the first case of such a degree of human kindness he had experienced in a very long time. It was especially unexpected since nine out of the ten people he had been supposed to rescue had died.

His gaze flickered over Vianne, who had a steely gaze locked on his face. It was impossible to mistake that look for the one of captivated wonder on most female faces. Her expression did not say, _I beg you, please stay, dear hunter._ Her expression said, _I want you to stay, so stay, or else._

This was obviously a girl who was used to having her own way. She had to be very precious to the people of this town indeed, to be able to convince the mayor to invite D to stay just because he had rescued her.

D considered the obstinate look on the girl's face. He had no urgent engagements, and human kindness was hard to come by. He would indulge her.

"That is very kind of you," he said to the mayor.

The mayor smiled a smile that was half-genuine, half-forced. "There's an empty house near the town gardens you can put up at during your stay. It's quite comfortably furnished – it's usually for merchant guests to stay in when they come to do business. You'll find the view of the gardens from there quite spectacular. I'll have someone show you there."

"I don't mind," Vianne volunteered, with a hopeful look at the mayor.

"Absolutely not, young lady!" the mayor chided. "You're dirty and tired, and you've just been through a terrible ordeal. I'll not have you running about all over town until you collapse. Go up to the house and tell Maria to give you a bath, clean clothes and food. God knows, you have several similar outfits stowed away in my house. No one can tell them apart."

"Not true," Vianne argued. "The blouses are all different. This is the plain one. There's the one with a bit of lace trimming, and the one with gathers, just to name two. My other pants have some form of design on them, too. And my other vest has studs."

The mayor smiled in spite of himself. He waved his hands at Vianne. "Still can't tell them apart – they're all black. After dinner, make sure you lie down and have a good rest."

"Fine," Vianne said, almost flouncing off her seat. "I'll wear one of the less embarrassing dresses, since I'm apparently supposed to be an invalid. Happy now, sir?"

"Very," the mayor told her with a kindly grin. "Now move along."

Vianne left the mayor's office. At the door, she turned back and gave D a deep look. There was longing in that look, but that was only minimal. There was more to that look, much more. All D could gather from it was a sense of empathy, a sense that she could see into his soul and feel what was there. She gave him a small, close-lipped smile before slipping out.

"She's a very special child, isn't she?" the mayor asked suddenly. "She has a gift for analysing the feelings of others. She always seems to know what people are feeling just by observing their behaviour. She doesn't always act upon that empathy, but she always knows."

"She is brave," was all that D offered.

The mayor laughed, sounding a little more at ease for some reason. "Yes, that she is. Come now, dhampir hunter. I'll walk you to your quarters myself."

* * *

When D looked out of the window of the guesthouse in the morning, he saw Vianne in the garden. The mayor had not been wrong; the garden was quite spectacular. 

The town garden was a small glade, decorated so richly with beautiful flowering and green vegetation that it seemed almost like an oasis, a slice of another world, a world that belonged in fairy tales.

There was a white marble fountain in the centre of the garden. A brick footpath went all the way around the fountain, then stretched off in four directions in a radial pattern. Wooden benches with ornate black metal legs and armrests lined the broad footpaths at regular intervals.

The area beyond the footpaths was paved with a soft, luxurious carpet of the greenest grass. Flowering bushes put forth colourful blooms along the grass. Tall trees with elegantly curved branches lent shade to the footpaths.

Vianne walked among the greenery, carefully avoiding areas where there were bees flying around. She seemed afraid of them. She had no trouble with butterflies, though.

Her appearance was radically different from the day before. Her face had been washed, obviously, and her smooth skin tone made her entire face seem more radiant, more energetic. Her hair had been brushed until it shone slightly. She wore a plain black halter dress with a crimson trim along the hem of the short skirt and elegant gathers along one of the side seams.

D watched her sit by the fountain and play with the clear, sparkling water. After a while, she went to look at the flowers, scuttling away like a panicked rabbit whenever a bee flew near. As time passed, it became clear that she was not really just hanging around the garden. She was watching the house. Waiting for him to come out.

D had seen enough. He turned away from the window.

* * *

Vianne was busy escaping from a particularly large bumblebee when D stepped out of the borrowed house. Unhurriedly, he approached the garden. 

When she was finally assured that the bee was no longer following her, she relaxed. She turned around, only to find herself facing D across the spray of the fountain. It was an odd way to come face-to-face with him, but she rather liked it.

"Hello," she said, smiling slightly. D acknowledged her greeting with a slight nod.

"I haven't thanked you properly for yesterday," she went on. "I guess it was rather rude of me, after you stopped that vampire from tearing out my face and all. So thank you."

"Don't thank me," D said quietly from the other side of the fountain. "I was paid for the job. That is all there is to it."

Vianne glanced around. All the other people spending a leisurely morning in the garden were inching away to other corners of the place. Some were even leaving altogether. They were suspicious, afraid, or both. Even when the mayor was the one who had extended an invitation, a dhampir was never truly welcome.

"Don't mind them," Vianne said suddenly. "People are like that. They dream of heroes, of idols, stronger and better looking than life. When one turns up, they scatter in fear and distrust. That's humans for you. We're afraid of anything different, anything better than us. More than anything humans want control. So we're scared of anything that we can't control. For us, ideals were never meant to become reality."

"I'm used to it," D told her.

Her serious expression vanished, and she smiled brightly at him. "Oh, don't say that," she said. "Not everyone is like that. There are people who can appreciate that humans aren't the supreme sentient beings. You've met some of these people. Many, I'd say."

D glanced at Vianne sideways. He had a vague idea what she was talking about, but he held his tongue and waited to hear what else she had to say.

"But even those people were afraid of you, in their own way," she continued. "I've heard stories about you. Stories about women in villages and towns who never forget you, and stare wistfully down the road leading away from their home when you are mentioned. Those women don't despise you for being a dhampir. Perhaps they think they're in love with you. What they feel for you is beyond fear. It's awe. Amazement so powerful that it puts them under a spell. I almost got dragged under it myself, when I saw you for the first time."

She paused, then went on, "But how can any of them truly love you? I don't believe in love at first sight, not really. Attraction yes, but love no. You've never allowed anyone to know you, to get close to you. Some say they love you because of what you've done for them. That's just gratitude, transformed by awe into something else. I daresay it's worked for you, distancing yourself from everyone like that. You've kept yourself free. But the more you simply play the ice prince act, the more they will want to win your heart, to be special to you. And after you're gone they still moon after you, imprisoning themselves with what they think could have been."

D kept his gaze locked on the fountain. The sparkling spray was reflected in his beautiful deep, dark eyes. For a moment, Vianne was silent, mesmerised by the watery light shining in his eyes. For that moment, she fought the very thing she had been talking about.

"No one will ever be happy with you," she said, her voice soft and grave. "You will never make anyone happy because you're always wandering, because you have no life other than that of a hunter's. Because you're always putting yourself in danger, because anyone who walks with you will be feared and rejected, just like you are. Because you will never grow old, never die, unless someone kills you. Because you might give in to the thirst for blood. Because any emotional attachment is only a weakness to be used against you in your line of work. Simply put, you can never bring happiness because you're a dhampir, and because you're a hunter. Am I right?"

D had to admire the girl's deep thinking and insight. In some ways, her mind was mature way beyond her years. "More or less."

Vianne smiled now, her smile sombre and sad. In a matching voice she advised, "Then you have yet to meet someone who will give up anything and everything for that attraction they have for you. Someone who will give up her life, her place in society, her security … everything. Someone who doesn't expect you to stay with her, but chooses to follow you wherever you go. Someone who follows without waiting for your invitation to do so. When you meet that person, I'd advise you to break that ice armour you have on there. Because that is the person who truly loves you. Because that is the one who will accept you as you are. Exactly as you are."

Without another word, she turned and walked away. Without defending her right to give him advice like that, without insisting on her credibility despite her youth, as if she knew age and time mattered nothing to D. As if she was so confident that there was no need for clarification, and that her words in themselves were their own defenders.

D followed her with his eyes. He watched her as she went. The girl who understood the effect he had on people even more profoundly than he himself did. Her mind was a strange thing, not clouded by fear and awe like most others.

He admired her. That was the first time that could truly ever be said of a human.


	2. Unpardonable Defilation

**The Legend I**

Once Bitten

_Vampire Hunter D Fan Fiction_

**Chapter 2: Unpardonable Defilation**

D was leaving. He knew that Vianne was done with him. From the way the words had just poured, almost uncontrollably, from her, he knew that when she had set eyes on him and compared her experience to the stories she had heard, her empathic, analytical mind had generated those words. She had the sort of personality that kept no secrets. She had been compelled to tell him, unable to keep her thoughts to herself. That was why she had requested the mayor to keep him around. But she had said her piece. Her mind was at peace.

D dropped by the mayor's office and offered his thanks for the hospitality. Then he got on his cyborg horse and rode out of town at a slow, thoughtful pace.

He had not gone ten metres from the outer town wall when he heard a breathless voice call after him, "D, wait!"

He stopped the horse, and with uncommon graciousness looked back. Vianne ran the rest of the distance between them. When she finally caught up, she was breathing hard.

It had only been a couple of hours since he had last seen her in the garden. She had already changed back into an outfit similar to the one she had been wearing in the underground passage. D noted that her blouse had a modest black lace trim along the wide off-shoulder collar, recalling her words in the mayor's office.

"Do you mind if I walk you out all the way until the main road?" she asked. When he did not reply, she added, "Don't get me wrong, I'm not obsessing over you or anything. It's just … well, it's not every day someone like me gets to see the fabled D. Might as well revel in it while I can."

"It's a long way out to the main road," D cautioned her. "Three hours. More if travelled on foot. And you have to come back."

Vianne shrugged. "It's fine by me. I don't have anything to do, anyway. It's only noon. It'll still be bright when I get back. The mayor – he's my guardian – refuses to let me help out with any of the work around town … claims I'm still in shock. So I asked him if I could do whatever I want for the whole day, as long as it isn't strenuous manual labour. He said yes, so here I am."

D accepted her explanation and held out a pale hand to help her onto the horse. She cast an uneasily glance at the hard, moulded shape of the saddle in front of him.

"That does not look comfortable."

She blinked in surprise when D retracted his hand and jumped lightly down from the horse. Leading the horse along by the reins, he walked alongside her.

"I'm astounded, really," she remarked. "So that's what gets to those lady loves of yours. Icy, but unbelievably considerate. Don't be so nice if you're going to be all distant and chilly. You're going to break hearts."

"Would you rather I rode while you walked?"

"Eh? No."

"Then don't complain."

Vianne could not quite help the wide grin on her face. That was not a joke, not really. But it was pretty damn close.

* * *

Vianne watched with a sinking feeling in her heart as the dhampir mounted his horse by the side of the main road. For all her logic and reasoning, she was not completely immune to the effect his unearthly attractiveness had on women. 

"Goodbye then," she said, a little more cheerfully than she had intended. "Don't you forget what I said about all those whatnots."

A faint, wry smile appeared on D's face. "I won't."

Vianne smiled. Twisting her hands dramatically, she offered D a grandiose bow. "Until we meet again, dhampir hunter."

D inclined his head to her, a little more than he would for anyone else, and rode off down the road at a pace that was unhurried but swift. She watched him go, perspiring slightly under the blazing sun, then turned and headed back to the town.

Without warning, two men charged out of the trees and blocked the path in front of her. Both were rugged, thickset men, not tall but very broad and rippling with muscle. Both had rough, untrimmed beards and looked positively filthy.

"What the hell do you want?" she snapped acidly. The best way to deal with louts who tried to intimidate people on the road was to act like she was not afraid in the least.

The taller man's mouth fell open in a lewd grin. "Grab her."

Both men pounced at Vianne. She leapt deftly aside, but one of the men dived to the ground and grabbed her ankle. With a sharp cry, she tripped and fell over, hard, on her side. With a vicious kick with her free leg, she managed to break the man's hold. She tried to get up.

The man on the ground clawed wildly at her legs. She fell again, and the men caught her firmly this time. One held her arms and the other her legs. She was dragged, kicking and screaming, into the bushes by the side of the road. But there was no one about to hear her cries. The town was three hours' walk away, and D was already gone.

"I want to go first," the shorter man, holding Vianne's arms, declared. He indicated the bruise on his hand with a jerk of his head. "She kicked me, the little bitch!"

"Like she'll be fit for my use after you're done, with you in such a temper," the taller man growled. "Besides, you went first last time. You let me go first, I'll carry her when we go to the slave trader later."

"Fine," the shorter one conceded. "Be quick, I'm gonna jerk off in a minute."

"Shut up and hold her," his taller companion snapped. He was actually slavering. He leered horridly at Vianne, then dropped his pants.

"Shit!" Vianne swore at the sight of his intensely hairy groin. She did not dare look away – she had to defend herself somehow. The spectacular view of his thick, hairy penis sticking stiffly out from his body at an angle was nauseating nonetheless.

Still leering, the man swaggered open-legged towards her. When he got close enough, she hiked up her leg and aimed a kick at the spot on his body that irked her the most. With surprising agility, he jumped back, saving his Father's Day.

"Tell you what," the taller man said to the other, "drop yours too. We'll try something new. I shoot her up her tight pussy, and you can go in through her little ass. After that we'll swap."

Excited at the prospect, the shorter man dropped Vianne's arms and wriggled out of his own trousers. Then he lay flat on his back on the ground. The taller man grabbed her before she could crawl away and threw her onto the other man so that she was lying with her back resting on his chest. The taller man then dropped down on top of her.

The shorter man below Vianne held her legs open and still. No matter how hard she thrashed, he kept his grip. He was way beyond aroused just from touching her. She could feel his solid, eager erection nudging at her behind.

The taller man held both her hands out of the way with one large, stubby hand. He reached down with his free hand to rip her pants open. Before he got to the actual ripping, however, he ran his hand down her clothed crotch, stroking with greedy, perverse glee.

Vianne's body shuddered involuntarily. This man was an experienced rapist. He was using her body's natural reactions against her – stimulating her before actually doing the act. She could feel her nether regions growing warm and damp. Her genitals felt swollen, and there was a throbbing, aching emptiness between her legs. Repulsed as she might be by the two men, her libido could not help but respond to the arousing touch. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the disgusting sexual urge she felt.

Satisfied with his handiwork, the taller rapist put his fingers around Vianne's belt. He was about to rip it free when a shadow fell over him from behind. He turned around, distracted. For a brief moment it seemed his erection grew even stiffer. Then it wilted altogether, and all he could feel was fear. Desperate, irrational fear.

The same went for the man pinned below Vianne. He flung her body off his and scrambled for his pants. He and his companion grabbed their trousers and fled, not even bothering to put the pants on before they ran. The fear would drive them for many miles, until they collapsed exhausted.

D went on one knee near Vianne, who still had her eyes tightly shut. She was curled up in a foetal position. He did not make the mistake of trying to touch her to help her up. That usually drove near-victims of rape into hysteria.

"Vianne."

The first time he called her name, she made a whimpering sound and curled up even more tightly. He tried again.

Vianne's eyes flickered open for a fraction of a second, then squeezed shut again. After a short pause, she opened her eyes again, slowly. They were full of unshed tears. Every muscle in her body was still as bunched as tightly as a porcupine in danger. When her near-crazed mind confirmed that it was only D who crouched near her, she started to relax.

Holding a palm out as if telling D to wait, she flopped back, stretching out on the ground, and took a few deep, shuddery breaths. Each breath was steadier than the last.

Finally, she sat up, her eyes damp but clear. She had recovered from the ordeal, for the most part anyway. D stayed where he was, and made no move to approach her.

"You came back," she said. Her voice cracked slightly.

"I could hear you."

She laughed, feeling the euphoria that most people felt after a bad scare. "It's a good thing I bothered screaming then, huh?" she joked. "If I had known 'until we meet again' would be so soon, I wouldn't have bothered with the bow. I'd just have asked to borrow your sword."

"Are you all right?" D asked. His voice was mostly devoid of concern.

Vianne did not mind. She knew that it was just the way he was. "Yeah, I'm just dandy. Hey! What's wrong with you?"

D had pitched forward abruptly, his right hand flying to his throat. He was making soft choking noises. Vianne reached a hand out tentatively.

"I warn you, again and again, never to stay out in that kind of sun for too long," a hoarse, cynical voice said, startling Vianne. The voice seemed to be coming from D's left hand.

Still hunched over and clutching his throat with his right hand, D showed his left hand, palm up, to Vianne. A face grew in the middle of his palm, like a strange parasite.

"Hello, nice to meet you, I'm D's left hand," the face in the hand said. "Brings a whole new level to the expression 'talk to my hand', huh?"

It chuckled at its own joke, despite its master's obvious distress. Suddenly, it sobered up. "D here needs a bit of pitch darkness. Know any place like that within, say, ten metres of here?" it asked Vianne in a brisk, businesslike manner.

She shook her head. "It's all open forest here."

"Could you dig him a hole in the ground?" the left hand asked, almost merrily.

Vianne patted the ground. "Hard-packed dirt, what do you think?"

The left hand sighed and addressed D, "That's why I always warn you about the sun. Now you're going to die of heat syndrome. Great way to go."

Ignoring the sarcastic left hand, Vianne grabbed D by the shoulders and shoved. Despite his obvious pain, he moved along with her guiding hands, saving her the frightful task of moving someone way taller than her.

Vianne pushed D into the deepest shadow she could find, which happened to be under a large tree. Then she crawled to a nearby bush and yanked.

She screamed and flailed wildly when a spider landed on her arm. The arachnid flew off fairly easily. Normally, she would have chased it around with a slipper and crushed it. She hated bugs. But she had more important things to do now. She ripped most of the bush out and brought it back to where D lay. Piling up torn-up bushes, she made a sort of wall on either side of his body to provide extra shade.

It was not enough. She looked around desperately for more things she could use. But she had pretty much destroyed all the movable vegetation in the immediate area. She did the next best thing she could think of. She crouched over D and shielded him from the sun with her own body.

The next few hours passed in a daze. Her clothes were black, and they absorbed heat like nobody's business. Soon her head was swimming. It was all she could do to keep herself crouched upright over D's body.

Finally, her brain vaguely registered that it was dark. Night had fallen. Relieved, Vianne tried to get up. Her arms and legs just seized up violently and began twitching with muscle spasms. She groaned with pain and simply collapsed on the ground next to D, her cramping limps sprawled out carelessly. She could barely control them. In that position, she fell asleep.

* * *

When Vianne woke, it was late at night, or perhaps very early in the morning. It was deathly quiet. The only sound that broke the silence was the sound of crickets chirping in the bushes. 

Her arms and legs ached terribly. She sat up, expecting to see D already awake and recovered from his heatstroke. But he still lay in the same position, eyes shut. Going up close, she could see the dryness of his lips. His breathing was shallow, and seemed laboured.

She panicked. It was night, deep into the night. It was cool and dark. Why had he not recovered? What did he need? Did he need water, like humans?

A moment later, she realised what he needed. It was not water. He was a dhampir, half-vampire. The sensitivity to the sun was probably brought about by his vampire blood as well. In that case, it would be logical that what he needed to recover was blood.

"He needs blood," the voice of the left hand confirmed her suspicions. "You did a great job improvising shelter, girl, and you saved his life, but it's not enough. If he doesn't get blood right about soon, he will die anyway. But the way he is now, he's incapable of biting anyone. Even if he was, he wouldn't. He's a stubborn one, he is."

"He doesn't have to bite anyone," Vianne said firmly. With a little pushing and shoving, she managed to get D lying flat on his back. Then she took hold of the hilt of his sword and bared a couple of inches of the bright, almost glowing silver blade. Biting her lip, she brought her wrist to the blade and pressed down.

Bright red blood stained the pristine metal. Vianne forced back tears. It was terribly painful. Shuddering from the effort, she brought her throbbing wrist to D's mouth and let the crimson liquid trickle between his slightly parted lips.

"God, don't waste it," she moaned piteously as she saw a drop of red trickling from the corner of his mouth. She stroked his throat desperately. "Please, swallow."

"Watch it, little girl," the left hand warned. "If you give him too much this way, you'll just die from loss of blood."

D's Adam's apple bobbed once, then twice. He was swallowing the blood. Relieved, Vianne took her uninjured right hand away from his throat. Her left hand was growing numb, but she kept feeding him blood. She did not know how to make it stop, anyway.

She brought her wrist closer to his mouth, until it was pressed against his lips. She felt a curious, cold sensation as he subconsciously sucked on the bleeding wound, drawing the blood from her veins. He did it once more. She was feeling a bit faint.

Then she gave a sharp yelp as she felt something sharp sink into the flesh of her wrist. She did not pull back, but D frowned deeply in his delirious, semiconscious state and turned his head away, as if realising that something had gone wrong and refusing to drink any more.

Shaking, Vianne brought her still-bleeding wrist into a sliver of moonlight. Her fears were confirmed. There were two puncture marks on right above the cut she had made. He had bitten her. It had probably been the instinct that had surfaced during his semiconscious state that had made him do it. She felt no anger, just a cold resignation.

"What happened?" the left hand demanded? "Why'd he stop?"

"Nothing," Vianne replied, glad that the left hand had not been able to see the puncture wounds. She could not imagine what it would do to D if he found out he had bitten someone, accident or not. He was a hunter, after all.

"Maybe it was enough already," she said casually as she pulled a handkerchief out from under her vest and used it to bandage her wrist wound. "I'm feeling a bit light-headed anyway."

The left hand was silent for a while. Then, "Yes, his system does seem to be settling down. I think you may have done it, girl. Saved his life without him having to take a single bite! Some genius you are."

Vianne bit her lip. "I really am feeling kind of giddy," she told the hand. It was true. "I'll just take another nap …"

* * *

Vianne opened her eyes, and had to blink as the bright morning sunlight blinded her momentarily. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up. Her muscles still ached, and her wrist wounds felt slightly sore, but considering what she had been through the day before, she was feeling great. 

"You're awake."

She turned around and saw D sitting with his back to a tree. That was when she realised that they were no longer at the same place. They had gone deeper into the forest, from the looks of it.

"Um, where are we?" she asked.

"I moved you while you were sleeping," he explained calmly. "People from your town are looking for you."

"Oh. Why didn't you just give me to them and be on your way?" she asked. She already suspected his reason, and it made her squirm.

"If I hand you to them, they will find what is on your wrist."

Vianne made one last attempt at denial. "It's only a cut. Why would they worry?"

"Only a cut?" D repeated. There was cold anger in his voice. "Show me your wrist."

"Like I said, it's just a –"

"Show me."

Vianne knew that she had been run down like a wild animal. There was no way out of it. She stuck out her left hand and looked away.

D took her hand with surprising gentleness and unwound the crude cloth bandage around her wrist. She winced as the fabric, stuck to her skin by dried blood, was peeled away. She kept her eyes riveted on a tuft of grass a few feet away, but she could practically feel D's gaze on the two puncture marks on her wrist.

After a few seconds of silence, he dropped her hand. There was another very long, pregnant pause. The silence was almost tangible.

Then D said, in a soft but dangerous voice, "Biting a human is an unpardonable defilation."


	3. Weight of the World

**The Legend I**

Once Bitten

_Vampire Hunter D Fan Fiction_

**Chapter 3: Weight of the World**

"Look, don't start on that stuff," Vianne said sharply. "If I don't think it's defilation, you have no right to think so."

D said nothing to that. He simply settled into a torturous silence.

Vianne sighed. It was almost as if he had gotten her pregnant, or something. It was the same sort of dilemma, a dilemma about blame, consequences and responsibility.

"I don't mind, really," she said honestly. "I didn't want this, but now that it's happened, I really don't mind. I mean, I'm sitting out here in the sunlight and I'm not turning into crispy barbecue. It's good enough. So stop going on about it in your head. After all, you didn't really bite me. I probably just nicked my wrist on your fangs or something."

"You should not have given me your blood in the first place."

"Your left hand was right, you know?" she retorted. "For someone like you to die because of the sun is going to look like a really, really bad joke."

"The same goes for a hunter who leaves his mark on a human."

Vianne moved a little closer to him and attempted to get him to look her in the eyes. It did not work. "Well," she said anyway, "at least in the latter case the hunter is alive. It makes a difference. A big one. A good one."

Warmth had no effect on D. He had already been frozen so deeply that any warmth, no matter how substantial or sincere, simply turned to frost when it touched him. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Vianne felt her heart clench painfully. She studied D's pale countenance, seeing beyond the overwhelming beauty, beyond the impassive iciness, to the sadness behind it all. She had never seen a face so perfect, so emotionless, but above all so tragic. The hard lines of his pale face etched themselves upon her heart, leaving searing coldness in their wake. For a long time, she remained absolutely still, unable to move, feeling nothing but bitter cold and emptiness inside. She could think only of the dark past, the bleak present and the hopeless future that had made that face. At that point in time, life seemed to be sapped of all sweetness, all warmth, even all bitterness and pain – everything that gave it flavour. All that was left was a black void, a vague purpose, and death at the end of all the nothingness.

The moment passed, and her blood seemed to flow again. The numbing cold slowly drained from her body, leaving only a haunting phantom chill behind. The black wave that had come crashing down upon her had passed, but she would never forget it. It had made her realise just how shallow her understanding had been, how superficial her empathy had been.

She had never realised how cruel the life of a dhampir truly was. How cruel it was to be born alone, to always be alone, and to die alone. To be born an outcast – between two worlds and part of neither. To spend a long, lonely life pursuing a single, unfulfilling purpose. To die unacknowledged, neither mourned nor remembered; to put an end to a hollow shell that could hardly be called life. Dhampirs could be nothing but hunters, until every last vampire was gone. Yet what would happen to dhampirs then? Would they finally be rewarded for giving the night to the humans; would they finally be free to live real lives? Or would they just become the new vampires, to be hunted down and destroyed like their bloodthirsty ancestors?

"Why do you keep doing it?" she asked softly. "Why do you hunt them? What's in it for you? You don't need the money."

"I'm a dhampir," D replied simply. As if that was all it took. As if that justified everything. As if that sealed his fate.

"No one will thank you, you know, when it's all over," Vianne said. There was a hard edge to her voice. "No one will remember that a certain dhampir hunter once saved them from vampires. No one will acknowledge the part that you had to play in killing off all the vampires, in giving them the night. No one. They'll all just turn on you, when they no longer need you to fight off a common enemy. They will do it eventually, even if they don't at first. They'll do it because they're afraid. You'll die without having known anything but death."

"I know."

The words were spoken without feeling. He did not even care.

"Of course you know," Vianne snapped. She was furious. "I learnt it from you. I --"

"Quiet."

"Don't try to shut me up. Why don't you even --"

"Too late."

From behind her came the sound of a man's voice, "Look, over there! I knew I heard voices coming from this direction!"

Vianne gasped, whipping her head around. A search party was making its way through the foliage towards her and D. She recognised people from her town. They were pointing – they had already spotted her.

She glanced at D. He remained seated where he was, seemingly unbothered by the crowd of anxious townspeople charging through the forest towards him. Then again, he never seemed bothered about anything. Ignoring him, she returned her gaze to the search party.

The mayor burst through the nearest trees first. "Vianne!" he cried out, bending down to examine her. "Are you all right?"

A second later, the other townspeople, led by the sheriff and a few deputies, came into full view. All the lawmen held guns cocked at D's head. Those townspeople who had guns pointed them, too. The rest made do with holding bladed weapons or farming tools and trying to look threatening.

"You have a lot to answer for, dhampir," the sheriff said gruffly. His beady eyes reflected only distrust and hatred. "You kidnapped Vianne."

"He did not," Vianne interjected sharply. "I'm here of my own accord."

The sheriff did not even glance at her. "And brainwashing her, too."

Vianne jerked herself free from the mayor's restraining hands and leapt to her feet in fury. "Are you even listening to me?" she demanded, a little shrilly. "I'm the one who's been through the whole thing. Did you see him kidnap me? Did you? How much of what happened did you see? I'll tell you. Nothing! He rescued me, you twit! Lower your fucking gun!"

"That's quite enough, Vianne," the mayor said in a deadly serious voice. "We'll help you. You don't have to defend him."

His words sent a cold shiver down her spine. She turned her head and saw the look in her guardian's eyes. He had seen the wounds on her wrist. Nothing she said now would make any difference, for her or for D.

"Come back with us, Vianne," the mayor said, his tone gentle but undeniably sad. "We need to get you looked at in the hospital. We'll help you recover. He's only a dhampir after all. You'll be fine. Come. Let the sheriff handle this mess."

Tears filled Vianne's eyes. She was not scared or upset. She was touched. Even after seeing the bite on her wrist, the mayor still loved her, the same as ever. He had always treated her like his own daughter, since he did not have any children of his own. She could see how much he cared for her. He wanted to help her. She still had a place in his town, as long as he was still mayor.

She felt as if the weight of the world had fallen on her shoulders. Her heart filled with love for the guardian who had watched after her for sixteen years. She wanted to go back and live under his protective wing for as long as she could. But she knew things would never be the same again. Everyone else would fear and shun her. Even he would be afraid, although his concern for her would negate most of it.

Vianne stepped forward, towards the mayor's outstretched hand. Reaching out, she touched his fingertips with hers. "I'm sorry, mayor," she whispered. "I appreciate what you're trying to do for me. I'll never forget it."

With that, she took her hand away, turned around, and walked away. She walked up to the sheriff and placed herself directly in his path, right in front of his gun.

"I am the sole witness of this incident," she said coldly. "And I say he did not kidnap me. You want to know what happened? I was ambushed by a couple of flesh peddlers. I almost got raped and carried off to the slave trader. He saved me. That's all you have to know. Piss off."

The sheriff smirked nastily. "What about the bite on your wrist? An odd place to bite, but I guess dhampirs have their little odd fetishes …"

"The bite was an accident," she informed him stiffly. "As you can see, I'm not growing fangs, pouncing on you and sucking you dry. I would very much like to do so, but unfortunately I'm unable. No harm was done."

The sheriff chuckled nastily. "An accident? I've heard many a story about young horny girls like you throwing themselves upon this half-breed. What was your wrist doing near his mouth, I wonder?" he sneered.

Vianne's temper flared, and she opened her mouth to spray the sheriff with an acidic retort. Before she had even thought of what to say, however, a flash of silver sailed by her head, mere millimetres shy of the tip of her left ear.

The sheriff stared, his square face blanched and pale, down at the tip of the long sword, hovering an inch from his throat. Vianne was equally transfixed on the blade that D was pointing at the sheriff over her shoulder.

There was a series of clicks as every gun-wielding man in the clearing, except the petrified sheriff, released his safety. One of the deputies threatened, "Back off and drop your sword, dhampir, or we will fire on you."

D did nothing of the sort. A few second passed. Everyone was perfectly still, as if they were all part a still scene in a tableau. The townspeople were nervous, and their nervousness could be keenly felt in the tense atmosphere. The mayor stood where he was, head lowered, defeated. D radiated a cold, dangerous aura. It seemed that everyone was caught in a momentary spell, the sort of slow-motion lull before all hell broke loose.

_Melodrama at its best. _Vianne rolled her eyes. She drew back a fist and lashed out, punching the sheriff in the face. There was a loud crack as her fist made contact with his bulbous nose. The startling sound broke the spell. A collective gasp went up among the townspeople as the sheriff fell backwards, clutching a bleeding nose. He landed on his back with a loud thud.

Vianne kicked away the gun he had dropped. "That was for insulting my honour."

Her action had disoriented the other townspeople. A general uproar went up. Guns wavered and weapons twitched. Everyone was confused and upset.

"Enough," the mayor's voice broke through the commotion. He sounded resigned, yet there was steel in his tired, defeated voice. "Lower your weapons. Someone help the sheriff up. We're going back."

"But, mayor …" someone protested weakly.

The mayor looked right at Vianne when he said this. "Let them go. I believe Vianne's word. No action will be taken against the dhampir hunter. Vianne will bear the responsibility for her own choice," he announced. To D and Vianne he said, "Neither of you are welcome in our town henceforth. Please remember it."

He turned and led the muttering townspeople away. The sheriff was supported by a man on either side. He threw a dirty look at Vianne over his shoulder as he left. Then he was gone, too.

D sheathed his sword and watched until the townspeople had vanished from sight. Then, silently, he turned to leave.

* * *

"Why are you following me?" D asked as he mounted his cyborg horse. Vianne stood beside the horse, having followed D all the way from inside the forest. 

"In case you haven't noticed, I haven't got anywhere to go," she replied.

"That is none of my concern."

Vianne swallowed her annoyance. It would do her no good here.

She hated doing this sort of thing because it made her feel like a bitch, but she said, "I'm afraid it is. You have a responsibility towards me. Whether you like it or not."

D did not argue with her. Instead he said, "I am not going to walk with you this time."

Vianne gave the front of the saddle a look of distaste. "Fine. But in case you haven't noticed, I'm not quite tall enough to get on the horse by myself."

The pale hand extended down unquestioningly. Vianne took it, and was more or less hoisted onto the horse. She sat across the front of the saddle, her legs hanging over on one side, and held onto the pommel of the saddle to stop herself from slipping off.

The horse started moving. Vianne stifled a yelp as the jarring motion bumped her up and down on the saddle. Surreptitiously, she adjusted her position.

Even with the new, slightly more comfortable position, she could not help wincing with every step that the horse took. She sighed. It was going to be a long ride.

* * *

Angelica Reine retreated into her house and locked the sturdy door securely. She went around and checked all the windows, making sure they were all shut and locked. Night had fallen and she was taking no chances. A young widow like her had to take care of herself. 

Besides, there had been rumours from one of the nearby towns of vampire attacks. Usually she would have dismissed it as mere hearsay, but this time it was said that many towns along the road leading north towards the green hills had been attacked. From the pattern of the alleged attacks, it would seem that the vampire was moving in the direction of her village.

She settled down in the most comfortable armchair she had in the sparsely furnished house and started to knit by candlelight. Despite the uncontrollable fear lodged in her chest, she felt safe for the moment. Everything was tranquil. It was quiet outside – none of the dogs in the village were making noise. That was a good sign.

Suddenly, the candle on the table beside her went out, plunging the room into pitch darkness. Angelica sighed. She had not noticed the wick burning out.

She stood slowly and carefully started feeling her way towards the kitchen, where she kept her spare candles and lighters. She bumped into something. Cursing the unyielding darkness, she backed off a step and went round whatever piece of furniture she had bumped into.

This time, she smacked face-first into something tall and cloth-covered. Her blood ran cold when she realised that she had nothing like that in her house.

Cold, strong hands grabbed her by the arms. The cold seemed to spread into her body, freezing her on the spot. She was so frightened that she could not move, could not struggle, could not scream. She felt cool breath on her cheek.

"Hello, beautiful."

_

* * *

Blood. There was just too much blood. It was everywhere – Vianne seemed to be standing in a chamber surrounded by walls of the red liquid. It was on her hands, on her clothes, on her face, in her hair … even in here eyes._

_Death. The smell of death hung heavy in the air. It was more than just the sickly smell of blood. The cloying aroma of slow decay mixed thickly with the very air that Vianne was breathing. She gagged on it, but there was nothing else to breathe._

_Malice. An aura of hatred, fear and murderous intent pervaded the atmosphere. Vianne could see no one, yet that air of malice surrounded her, as if the whole world detested her, somehow, and no matter where she was she could not escape from it._

_Cold. It was numbingly, unbearably cold. Vianne crouched down, curling up, but it was no use. The freezing cold cut deep into her bones, despite the layer of warm blood coating her entire body. Then everything went black, and the frigid darkness swallowed Vianne hungrily._

Vianne's eyes snapped wide open. It had been a dream – a dark, twisted dream. But it had felt so real, so real that it still sent shivers down her spine.

The small hollow under the roots of a giant tree was deathly silent. The cyborg horse stood, still and obedient, at its entrance. D was seated leaning against a large gnarled root, exactly where he had been when Vianne had fallen asleep. He was apparently asleep, with his hat pulled down low and obscuring his face.

Blood memories. That was probably what the dream had been – a portion of D's mind that had passed into Vianne through the bite. She was beginning to understand the weight that he carried as a dhampir, and as a hunter. And she could not quite shake the feeling that his responsibility to her was only adding to that weight.

Vianne sighed softly. She had followed him because of curiosity, and because of fear. She feared the world, now that she bore a bite mark that would never heal on her wrist. To a small extent, she even feared herself; she was afraid that the bite would have some effect on her, that it would turn her into a mindless creature forever thirsting for blood. She believed that being near him would prevent that from happening, somehow. It seemed to be working; her canine teeth were not getting any sharper, and she felt no urge to drink blood. But that could just mean that the bite was not severe enough to have any adverse effects on her. It had, after all, been a mere prick. Most of the blood had been lost through the cut, not the bite.

She had been so very curious. She had spent a sheltered, uneventful life in a town that had been relatively peaceful. The adventures of a vampire hunter, no matter how bleak, had fascinated her. She had wanted to see what a hunter's life was like. She had wanted to be a part of the fantastic stories she had heard. But now, after the dream, she was no longer so sure.

After a moment of contemplation, she rose to her feet. Almost without making a sound, she slipped out of the hollow and away into the night.


	4. The Devil's Concubines

**The Legend I**

Once Bitten

_Vampire Hunter D Fan Fiction_

_# Many thanks to Kitala and Lillix Vail for reviewing! I'm glad you like it. Here's this week's chapter, for the both of you. I hope I don't disappoint. Read and enjoy :-)_

**Chapter 4: The Devil's Concubines**

Vianne stumbled along the uneven dirt road, cursing under her breath. She considered going back to the tree hollow, but quickly discarded that notion. She would follow the road to a new town where no one knew who she was. She would hide her wrist and live a normal life, somehow. She had no intention of living a life tainted with blood and bitterness, a life being a burden to a man who was colder than winter's heart.

In the faint moonlight, she thought she could make out a closed carriage, drawn by six cyborg horses similar to D's, parked by the side of the road ahead of her. It came as a surprise – few travellers dared to camp out in the wilderness at night.

Cautiously, she approached the carriage. Just as she was about to raise her fist to chance knocking on the carriage door, a deep voice sounded behind her. "What can I do for you, beautiful?" it asked obsequiously.

With a gasp, Vianne whirled around. A tall, whip-thin man stood bare inches away from her. He had short dark hair slicked back neatly, and was dressed in a formal black tuxedo complete with tailcoats. His chiselled, angular face was very pale. Narrow dark eyes glittered at Vianne above a hooked nose. A thin goatee decorated his upper lip.

She watched in horror as the man's eyes began to glow red. The two pinpricks of light seemed to blast right into her head, overriding her senses. Soon she could see nothing but red light. Then everything went a dull, blank black.

The Vampire Casanova, Ferrucio, allowed the red in his eyes to fade when he saw the young girl's eyes glaze over and become glassy. Her consciousness had retreated in terror of his gaze.

He studied his new catch. She was very young indeed, far younger than the widow he had taken recently, and younger than any of the six unconscious women he kept in the carriage. She had a pretty face and a slight, frail-looking body.

Ferrucio ran a probing hand over the contours of her body, revelling in the feel of her soft, warm flesh against his cold fingers. Two fingers slipped between her legs, and felt the tightness there, the untouched cleanliness. A virgin. A young, defenceless virgin. An excited chill ran through his body. He would enjoy taking her, once he had converted her. Almost as much as he would enjoy drawing her blood from her veins for the first time.

He put his face near to her and inhaled her scent. The faint, light scent matched her youth and physical purity. A shudder of delight ran down Ferrucio's spine. He hooked a hand behind her knee joints. Her legs gave way, and she fell backwards. Her eyes closed.

Ferrucio caught her effortlessly and lifted her in his arms, a satisfied smile on his face. The carriage door swung open soundlessly of its own accord. He stepped into the carriage, carrying the unconscious girl with him. The door slammed shut, and the vehicle began to move.

* * *

D opened his eyes. Vianne was nowhere to be seen. He had sensed her presence fade almost an hour ago. She had not returned. 

A faint breeze blew into the tree hollow, carrying with it an aura that D knew all too well. The aura of a vampire. It was fading, moving further away.

"You feel it, don't you?" his left hand asked unnecessarily.

"A vampire," D said unconcernedly. "It is none of my business, for now."

The parasite in his left hand chuckled. "Not any of your business?" it chortled. "What if I tell you that girl went off in the direction of the vampire when she left earlier?"

Unhurriedly, D ventured outside and mounted his cyborg horse. The beast of burden set off at an almost leisurely canter. The vampire was moving away slightly faster than that.

"What, aren't you worried at all?" the left hand said tauntingly.

"He cannot change her," D said simply. It was true. He had already bitten Vianne, although it was not enough to change her. If a vampire's bite was likened to marking the human as property, she already belonged to him and him alone. Any further bites by other vampires would just heal without having any lasting effect on her.

"There are other things a vampire can do to a young human girl," his left hand warned ominously. As if D did not already know that. His own existence was proof of that.

The cyborg horse's pace picked up slightly. D was still as calm as ever. "He will not," he said with unshakeable confidence.

The horse trotted out onto the wide dirt road. There were faint tire tracks in the dirt. Turning his horse, D began to follow the carriage's trail.

* * *

Vianne awoke with a splitting headache. With a soft groan, she sat up. She was on a cushioned bench built into the walls of the spacious interior of what appeared to be a carriage – she could hear the sound of horses' hooves and feel the bench jerking slightly below her as the carriage moved. The small windows had thick curtains over them, blocking out all but a few weak rays of the bright sunlight outside. 

In the centre of the carriage, right in front of Vianne, was a long, sleek coffin made of lacquered wood. Its lid was firmly shut. On the far side of the carriage, on a wide bed built into the wall like the bench, lay five slim, willowy women in long white dresses. They were all lying limp and motionless, lined up next to each other, and moaning softly from time to time. Vianne got the impression that they were very sick.

"You're awake," a gentle voice said.

Vianne turned her head. On the end of her bench sat a woman in her mid twenties. She had glossy red hair that tumbled to her narrow waist in sleek, springy curls. She had a beautiful face, and her deep green eyes were suggested that she was someone of great kindness. Like the other women, she was also wearing a white gown.

"Where am I?" Vianne asked the woman. "Who are you?"

The woman glanced furtively at the coffin in the middle of the carriage. "My name is Angelica Reine. You're in a vampire's carriage. You were kidnapped by him, just like the rest of us. He brought you in here last night."

She paused, as if waiting for Vianne to break out in hysterics. Vianne merely frowned and nodded towards the five prone women on the bed. "What's wrong with them?" she asked.

"He's already bitten them," Angelica replied. "He takes a little blood from each of them every night. Every now and then they wake up and moan for him to 'kiss' them again. He hasn't come around to biting you or me yet, but it's only a matter of time. Why aren't you afraid? I was terrified when I got here, and one of those young ladies over there told me what was going on."

Vianne shrugged. She decided against telling Angelica about the bite on her wrist. "There's nothing I can do about it, so what's the point of being afraid?" she said lightly. "What does he want with all of us, anyway? To sustain him until he reaches the end of his journey?"

Angelica shuddered, as if recalling a spooky memory. "A vampire can take sustenance from any human. If you haven't noticed, all the ladies over there are young and beautiful. I might not be as young, but I know I'm not ugly either. You're even younger, and pretty like the rest of us," she said slowly. "He spoke to me a couple of nights ago. He said that he wants us to be his brides. His concubines. He wants us to live with him forever in his castle, pleasuring him at his whim."

This time, Vianne shuddered too. Receiving sexual advances from a lecherous, polygamous vampire was not high on her list of priorities. In fact, top on that list right now was getting herself and Angelica away from the vampire as soon as possible. As for the other five … there was nothing she could do for them, if they had already been bitten.

She looked again at the closed coffin. If they were to escape, it would have to be when the vampire was sleeping. "What time is it?" she asked Angelica.

"I'm not sure. Late afternoon, I would reckon," the older woman replied.

"Do you think we could slip away?" Vianne suggested. "I mean, he can't come out after us until after sunset. We can find a safe place to hide before that."

Angelica shook her head hopelessly. "I've tried that already," she said dejectedly. "The door won't budge. And something else happens, too. It's too unnerving for me to speak of it. Try it for yourself, if you will."

Shrugging, Vianne slipped off the bench and went to the closed carriage door. She took hold of the handle, depressed it and tried to push the door open. Nothing happened. It was as if she was pushing at a drawing of a door on a solid wall.

There was a creepy collective sigh from her left. Alarmed, Vianne looked up. All five of the women on the bed were sitting bolt upright, their soulless eyes open wide and fixated on Vianne. Their arms were stretched straight out, as if inviting her into an embrace. Cold shivers began running continuously down her spine.

"All right, I get the message already," Vianne said disgustedly, letting go of the door handle. The five women flopped back down on their backs, once again becoming lifeless shells. "Don't try to open the door without permission."

Sheepishly, Vianne settled down in the bench beside Angelica once more. "That was sick," she remarked.

"That's one way to put it," Angelica replied in a small, faint voice. The sight of the five women sitting up like zombies had affected her, even if their horrible glassy eyes had not been directed at her.

"I really need to be talking to this vampire," Vianne said in a vain attempt at a joke. "I've got some feedback about his security system. You think he'll answer if I knock politely?"

* * *

Vianne picked up a cushion from the side of the bench and flung it across the room at the bed. The five afflicted women were arching their backs and making keening noises. They had been at it for half an hour or so. They sounded both as if they were in terrible agony, and as if they were in dire need of sexual attention. 

"Shut up already!" she yelled at them in a vexed voice.

"Let them be," Angelica said miserably. "They get like that just before it gets dark. Their bodies are anticipating the vampire's bite, and it excites their blood. They both fear and yearn for the impending bite. Nothing will quieten them."

"Still, can't they try not to make noises like the ones I hear coming out of the badly soundproofed whorehouse at night back in the town I came from?" Vianne remarked crudely.

Suddenly, the five women quietened. Their writhing bodies settled down and lay still once more. Vianne glanced at the curtains. There was no light beating against the thick, heavy fabric from the other side. Night had fallen.

Angelica's hands fisted around folds of her dress as the coffin lid began to swing up on its hinges. The vampire was emerging. Vianne steeled herself, trying to calm her wildly hammering heart. She remembered those red, glowing eyes …

The lid was fully open now. The vampire sat up. He was the same man whom Vianne had encountered outside the carriage the night before. The man with the high cheekbones, the thin angular face, and the goatee.

"Good evening, ladies," he said in his slinking, oily voice.

Angelica's lips were pressed together tightly. Her face was drained of colour. Her hands pulled nervously at the fabric of her dress.

The women on the bed began moaning again. "Come to me," they chorused. "Come, kiss me again. I need your kiss …"

The vampire waved a thin hand in their direction, quickly silencing their cries. "Be patient, my loves. You'll have to wait a little longer tonight."

At that, his eyes glowed red again. Vianne stiffened. However, it was Angelica who went into a trancelike state. The tension in her body drained away, and her hands relaxed on her lap. Her eyes, previously full of fear, became blank.

"Come, Angelica," the vampire crooned. "I'll make you mine tonight."

Angelica stood up, drawn by the vampire's spell. She took a step forward.

Vianne paled. The vampire was going to bite Angelica. In that moment, she did the only thing that came to mind. She lunged forward and threw both arms around Angelica's waist from behind. With every ounce of strength she had, she held the older woman back.

"Angelica, no!" she cried out urgently. "Snap out of it!"

"Release her, my sweet," the vampire told Vianne. "You cannot wake her."

Vianne squeezed her eyes shut, shook her head violently and tightened her arms around Angelica's waist. She did not want to see her only ally on board the carriage get bitten. She did not want to see Angelica become like the other five. Somehow, she had to save Angelica. Based on a hunch, she made a decision. If her hunch was wrong, the decision would be fatal for her.

"Take me first!" she yelled at the vampire. "I don't want to be alone. Take me first!"

The vampire smiled mischievously. The red glow in his eyes faded. Angelica collapsed, unconscious. Vianne lowered her gently to the carpeted floor.

"Very well," the vampire said with relish. He held out a hand. "Why don't you come to me on your own, then?"

Vianne stood up. Her fear was very real as she walked slowly up to the waiting vampire. When she got close enough, she hesitated, then put her hand into his.

The vampire dropped to one knee, brought the back of her hand to his lips, and kissed it. "I'm afraid I haven't introduced myself to you properly. My name is Ferrucio."

Vianne stared at the vampire. If she had not been so frightened, she would have raised an eyebrow and said, "Are you gonna play gentleman, or are you gonna bite me already?"

Slowly, dramatically, Ferrucio rose. With his free hand, he tilted Vianne's head up and sideways, exposing the side of her slender neck. He brought his head close to her neck and let out a delighted moan. Vianne could feel his breath on her neck.

Savouring the moment, Ferrucio fastened his mouth over the side of her neck. He laved her skin with his tongue, tasting her bare flesh. The intimate action aroused him. Absently, he thought that he would have to move the other five women later. He needed the bed tonight. After giving the warm flesh in his mouth another suckle, he bit down.

* * *

As the carriage came into sight under the moonlight, D jerked slightly, as if he had been struck by something. The vampire had bitten Vianne. 

His demonic nature rose within him, snapping viciously and demanding release. The vampire in him was enraged that his prey was being sullied by another. With difficulty, D suppressed the raging instincts.

Something else was happening. The carriage had stopped. D's keen hearing caught the thuds of bodies hitting the floor, and snatches of pitiful wails. He stopped the horse about twenty metres behind the carriage and dismounted, looping the reins around the branches of a short tree growing by the side of the road.

Unhurriedly, D walked towards the carriage. He could feel the vampire's aura coming from within. The vampire was distracted, for he had not sensed D's presence. D placed his hand on the brass handle of the carriage door.

* * *

The five women were on the floor, crawling away from the bed and making piteous noises. Ferrucio lowered Vianne to the bed, still drawing blood from the wounds he had made on her neck. She felt light-headed. She was unable to move, unable to resist. 

The tingling sensation spread south from the holes on her neck. An involuntary sigh escaped her lips, and her back arched slightly. The vampire's bite was having a curious effect on her. She felt strangely euphoric, yet strangely empty.

Ferrucio leaned over Vianne on the bed. His long, bony fingers stroked her face, then moved down and started to unlace her black leather vest.

Suddenly, he blanched and leapt away, spitting out the blood he had in his mouth. It had tasted so sweet at first. But he had tasted the warning taint. The sharp bitterness left in the blood of those who had already been bitten, to warn other vampires not to attempt to steal the prey of another. Ferrucio wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

The spell on Vianne broke. She sat up on the bed, a smirk lifting one corner of her mouth. The wounds on her neck closed up before Ferrucio's eyes. Still smirking, Vianne held up her left hand and pulled back her sleeve, showing him the bite marks on her wrist. "Gotcha."

Ferrucio bared is fangs in fury at the girl's insolence. But he was distracted when the enchantment he had placed on the carriage door was breached. He whirled around, fangs still bared. The carriage door opened.

A dhampir dressed all in black stood framed in the open doorway. Ferrucio could feel his aura, powerful and dangerous. From the rough, ragged edge present in the dhampir's aura, Ferrucio deduced that he was the one who had originally bitten the girl.

The dhampir began to reach for the sword strapped across his back. It was a movement that would have been too fast for any human eye to catch. But Ferrucio's eyes could see it in slow motion. Before the sword could leave its sheath, he had grabbed Vianne from the bed and hurled her bodily out of the door.

"Take what belongs to you, dhampir, and leave," he thundered.

When Vianne came flying at him, D let go of his sword and caught her. The impact drove him away from the carriage. Immediately, the door slammed shut and the cyborg horses drawing the carriage burst into full gallop. As he crouched in the middle of the road, Vianne held securely in his arms, the carriage vanished from sight, kicking up a cloud of dust as it went.

D looked down at Vianne. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, as if she were still bracing herself for the bone-shattering impact that had never come. His observant eyes look in the half-undone laces of her outer vest, and he realised what had almost been done to her.

Vianne opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was D's gorgeous visage gazing impassively down at her. She blinked rapidly, trying to think of something to say.

In the end, she settled for, "Oh. It's you. Again."


	5. Facade

**The Legend I**

Once Bitten

_Vampire Hunter D Fan Fiction_

**Chapter 5: Facade**

"He bit you."

The simple remark, delivered without expression, was enough to make Vianne squirm a little in her seat in the front of D's saddle. Subconsciously, she fingered the side of her neck.

"It doesn't matter, does it? The holes aren't even there any more. I was just trying to stop him from biting that other woman he has with him in the carriage. I'm sorry. Did it … hurt you or something?"

"No. I was just made aware of it. That is all."

"How did you find me so quickly?" she asked. "You appeared right after he bit me."

Naturally, D did not answer. Vianne sighed. After hours of riding, he had finally said something, and now he was nonverbal again.

She could not quite help feeling rather useless, and faintly guilty. She had not wanted to be a burden, so she had run away, but she had not even been able to do that properly. She had gotten herself caught by a vampire, and he had rescued her. Now she was back where she had started.

Vianne held up a hand to shield her eyes from the piercing rays of the late afternoon sun. If she squinted, she could just make out the buildings of a town in the distance.

* * *

Five minutes after D had ridden them into town, Vianne was feeling slightly freaked out, and more than a little bemused. People were actually smiling and inclining their heads politely as D rode past. No one did that, not even in the friendliest of towns. 

D ignored the courteous townspeople and rode up to the large building in the centre of the town – the mayor's residence. D dismounted and loosely tethered the well-behaved augmented horse to the fence. Vianne started slightly when he held out his hand to her. She took it, and he helped her off the mount.

"Do you have some sort of business here?" she asked.

D's eyes flicked almost imperceptibly towards the smiling, nodding passers-by. He had noticed, after all. "Apparently."

"Mister D!" a hearty voice called out.

The rotund, red-faced mayor of the town came waddling out his front door dressed in an immaculate grey tuxedo that looked ridiculous on him. He dabbed his round face with a handkerchief as he waddled up to D. He was grinning from ear to ear.

"Mister D, you're here at last," the mayor said, slightly breathless from his odyssey from the front door to the gate five metres away. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Now, who is this charming young lady you have with you?"

Vianne wilted inwardly at being called a 'charming young lady'. "Um, my name is Vianne," she told the mayor uncertainly. "You can call me … Vianne …"

The mayor guffawed as if Vianne had uttered the funniest joke ever. "A charming young lady with a sense of humour, apparently. Vianne, is it? I'll remember that. Now, Mister D … to business."

"Yes."

"Well, we seem to be having a bit of a vampire problem in this town," the mayor said, almost casually. "A few villagers have been bitten. We kicked them out, of course; it's all too possible that they will become vampires themselves and bite others. We hired a few hunters – all dhampirs, incidentally – but all of them were found missing on the night they arrived. Eventually, some of the bodies were discovered around the place."

D listened without interrupting. He had heard the rumours of dhampir hunters disappearing in this town over the past couple of weeks. If a vampire was indeed behind this, it would have to be quite a formidable foe.

"The hunters all disappeared from the same room, as far as we know," the mayor rattled on. "It's a room we have in the ground floor of the hotel – for easy access, you see. It's reserved for hunters whose services we have contracted."

D nodded almost imperceptibly, his expression not altering one bit. "I assume I will be staying there as well, then."

"Yes, yes, of course," the mayor said, almost dismissively. "I would urge you to be on your guard. As for the young lady …"

D barely glanced at Vianne. "Give her a separate room," he instructed.

* * *

Vianne watched with bemused eyes as the innkeeper bowed D into his ground-floor room. The elderly man's manner suggested he was dealing with some extremely important and valued guest, and not a feared dhampir hunter. 

Without looking at her, D shut the door to his room. The innkeeper turned to her and smiled, showing the gaps in his teeth. He made a sweeping gesture towards the wooden stairs with his arm. "This way, if you please, miss."

Vianne was ushered upstairs into a guestroom with a comfortable-looking single bed, a desk, a cushioned chair and an attached bathroom. The floor was carpeted, and the walls were wood-panelled. It was a cosy, comfortable room.

"If there's anything you need, miss, please feel free to call for it," the innkeeper said with another gap-toothed grin before backing out of the room and closing the door.

Vianne sat down on the bed. The mattress was soft but springy, and the sheets were clean and smooth. She considered lying back and going to sleep, but she felt uneasy. Everyone was so polite and so kind. Too kind.

The room, while comfortably furnished, made her feel insecure and claustrophobic. Abandoning thoughts of sleep for the moment, she got up and slipped out of the room.

* * *

Two urgent knocks sounded at the door to D's room. Without haste, he moved over to the door and opened it. Vianne stood in the doorway. 

He did not move away from the door to let her in. "Go back to your room."

Vianne shook her head. She had a tense expression on her face. "I feel unsafe there. I need to talk to you," she said distractedly. She kept glancing over her shoulder in the direction of the lobby, as if afraid that the innkeeper would come and catch her standing there.

D stood perfectly still for a moment, looking down at her as if considering her words. Then, wordlessly, he stepped aside.

Vianne cast a last furtive look over her shoulder, then slipped into D's room. It was furnished much like hers, except that the bed had a canopy over it.

The moment D shut the door, she said, "There's something wrong with this town."

D moved past her and seated himself on the bed. "What's wrong with it?" he asked in his usual soft, stoic voice, as if he did not really care.

"Everyone's too friendly," Vianne explained. "Too trusting. Too kind."

D was silent for a long moment. Then he said, "They are pretending."

Vianne rolled her eyes in exasperation. "That's obvious. That's why I say there's something wrong with this town. It's all a façade, a front. There's something going on here. They have a motive for putting up this pretence."

"That is also obvious."

"Aren't you worried at all?"

"Not particularly."

"Why not?"

"There is no way to know their purpose. So we'll just have to handle it when it reveals itself."

Vianne sighed and sank into the chair in front of the desk. "We could try to find out. Then at least we'll know what's going on."

D shook his head once. "That will not be necessary."

"But what if we're in danger?" she questioned.

He looked up at her, and the expression in his dark eyes was something like kindness. "I will keep you safe, if it comes to that. Now go back to your room," he said stoically.

Vianne sat for a few seconds, her lips slightly parted as she stared at his face. She did not quite understand the feeling that rushed through her when she looked at his eyes, but she froze the image in her mind and locked it away in the recesses of her mind. Seeing kindness in those eyes was like seeing an oasis in the middle of the desert.

"Let's hope you can," she said when she had recovered. She stood and let herself out through the door.

* * *

Vianne stood and considered the stairs leading upstairs. D had told her to go back to her room, but the thought of being alone in the small room in a place like this still frightened her, even if D had reassured her that she would be safe. She did not want to go back in there. 

Coming to a decision, she turned away from the stairs and walked out to the lobby of the small hotel. The innkeeper was standing behind the counter.

"Going somewhere, miss?" he asked politely.

"I'd like to have a look around town. You know, walk around and stretch my legs," she told him vaguely. "I don't feel like being stuck in a room on a day like this."

The innkeeper smiled. "Of course, miss. A young lady like you would be full of energy, and being cooped up in a small room can't do you any good. Run along now, then."

Vianne forced herself to smile back. Then she turned away from the still-grinning innkeeper and left the building.

On the street, she met with more friendly smiles and waves. In response, she offered thin, close-lipped smiles and half-hearted waves. This town was really starting to creep her out. She quickened her step and hurried on down the street, not even sure where she wanted to go.

Suddenly, her panicked eyes caught sight of a face that was neither warm nor welcoming. It was a dirty, rough, unshaven face – the face of a beggar. The owner of the face was an extremely skinny man with oily, dishevelled hair and worn, threadbare clothes. His large, slightly bulging eyes darted from side to side as he flashed her furtive glances from where he sat on the pavement.

The moment the beggar noticed Vianne looking at him, he scrambled up on his scrawny legs and darted into the nearest side alley. He moved with a slight limp, made even more obvious by his haste. He fell once, with a painful cracking noise, but he got right back up immediately and vanished into the dim, dingy alley.

Without a second thought, Vianne ran after him. If he was not putting up a front like the rest of the townspeople, perhaps he would be willing to answer some of her unasked questions and tell her what was going on. She dashed towards the alley where he had disappeared, afraid of losing him, and oblivious to the stares she was attracting from passers-by.

She rounded the corner sharply and barrelled into the alley, just in time to catch the sticklike figure of the beggar disappearing around another corner. Swearing under her breath, she ran forward and rounded the corner after him.

"Wait!" Vianne called out, spotting the beggar running ahead of her. "Please wait!"

In his panic, the beggar turned a wrong corner and ended up in a dead end. Before he could back out and run on, Vianne had appeared in the entrance to the dead end branch, blocking his only exit. With a horrified yelp, he stumbled away from her, knocking over a large trash can and falling.

"Please, miss," he pleaded frantically, "please stop chasing me. Please leave me alone!"

Vianne took a few slow steps into the dead end alley. Her hands were held up, palm-out, in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. "Look, sir," she said patiently, "I don't want to hurt you. I just want to ask you –"

"No!" the beggar shrieked hysterically, scrambling backwards through the rubbish that had spilled from the bin he had upended. He pressed back against the rough brick wall, on the brink of tears. His painfully thin arms flailed wildly in front of him, as if fending off an invisible enemy. "I don't know anything! Get away from me! Get away!"

Vianne stepped carefully around the rubbish strewn all over and dropped to a crouch a few feet away from the frightened beggar. Her hands were held up as if she was surrendering. "Please, I really have no intention of doing you any harm. Would you just calm down and listen to me? Please? I promise I'll leave you alone soon."

The beggar shook his head violently. His entire body went stiff, propped up against the back wall of the alley like a washing board. His cracked, filthy fingernails dug into the gaps between the paving stones on the ground. "No, no. Go away now! I don't want to get into trouble. Go away!"

"Trouble?" Vianne pressed. "What sort of trouble? Why would you get into trouble if you talk to me? I'm a guest here, and everyone is very friendly to me. Tell me, please."

The beggar's eyes bulged in horror. "No, no, no, no!" he wailed. "I have said too much already! No, no! I never said that, miss! Get away from me now! I don't know anything, please!"

Vianne reached a hand out towards the hysterical tramp. "But …"

A shadow fell over both over them. The beggar looked up. His eyes bulged even more, then he made a defeated noise and slumped limply against the wall. Vianne turned her head slowly and looked up as well. The man standing over them was the local sheriff. His expression was stern.

"Yes, sir?" Vianne asked nervously.

"Folks saw you charging into this alley here," the sheriff said gruffly. "Got worried about your safety, so they called me. It would be terrible for us if a guest like you got hurt during your stay here, you know. Not to mention the response we might get from your … companion … if anything untoward happened to you. Come along, now."

"I'll be perfectly fine, sir," Vianne assured him. "Thank you for your concern, but I was just talking to this guy here. I have some questions I would like to ask him, out of curiosity."

The sheriff smiled. "Well, I'd be glad to answer any questions you have," he offered. "There's no need for you to be making contact with filthy lowlife like him. Besides, he's quite mad, as you can see. Schizophrenia, or something. Always thinks there's some conspiracy up, and he'll get hurt if he talks to strangers."

Vianne knew she had been defeated. She could not do anything more without arousing any more suspicion. She cast an apologetic look at the beggar. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know," she said remorsefully. She meant it a different way for each of the men with her.

"Come on now, there's no need to apologise for thinking he's a normal person," the sheriff said heartily. "He should be flattered, if anything. He can't really understand you anyway." As he said that, he flashed a look at the beggar. He probably thought Vianne had not seen the expression in his eyes, but she had. His glance was a blatant threat.

Abruptly, the beggar's defeated demeanour changed. A defiant look entered his listless eyes, and he sat up straight. A bony hand reached out and rested lightly on Vianne's arm. "No use apologising now," he said in a hoarse, scratchy voice. "My fate is sealed. I'll tell you now, miss, you'd best get yourself and your man out of here. Nothing good will come of you staying."

The sheriff chuckled. "There's a good one. You see what I mean, miss? He's way paranoid, this little bastard. Talks weird."

Vianne faked a nervous laugh and brushed the beggar's hand off, pretending to be disgusted. She stood up and retreated behind the sheriff. "I see what you mean," she said, offering another ambiguous statement, "thank you for telling me. Sorry for troubling you."

"Not a problem at all, miss," the sheriff said cheerfully. "It's my duty to help out our townspeople and our guests alike. Come, let's get you out of this dreadful place."

The beggar simply slumped back against the wall again with a sad smile on his face. Vianne turned back to meet his eyes once before following the sheriff out of the alley. In that one look, she tried to express her apology, her gratitude, her admiration and her understanding that he had told her as much as he could have without putting her in immediate danger. In return, she received a small, weak nod from the emaciated tramp. He had already been caught talking to her, so in a show of defiance against the silent threat the sheriff had made, he had told her that she was in danger. It was enough.


	6. The Trap

**The Legend I**

Once Bitten

_Vampire Hunter D Fan Fiction_

_# Thanks to Kitala, Lillix Vail and Night Cat2 for reviewing so far! Here's this week's chapter..the trouble's finally beginning for real! Sorry the chapter's a little late...I forgot to update during the weekend. Cheers, and enjoy._

**Chapter 6: The Trap**

Vianne opened her room door a crack, careful not to let it creak. The innkeeper was still loitering around near the top of the stairs. Quietly, she closed the door again. So they suspected her of being onto something after all. She was being watched.

She had been escorted back to the hotel a few hours ago. The sheriff had said that she had 'been through a shocking experience' and needed to rest quietly in her room. She had been whisked into the room, without a chance to talk to D. Her dinner had been brought to her in her room. They had been very careful, indeed.

With a resigned sigh, she went to the window and looked outside. The moon was already high in the sky. It was starting to get late, and they would probably expect her to be asleep by now. She went over to the lamp on the table and snuffed it out. Then she sat on the bed and thought about her situation.

She sat perfectly still for a few minutes, calming herself down and thinking through what she had to do now. If they already suspected her, then they would undoubtedly carry out whatever plans they had as soon as possible, before she found a chance to talk to D about it. So, naturally, it was important for her to avoid their clutches and get to D immediately.

Once again, she went to the window. After making sure that no one was observing from the street or from a window across the road, she threw the curtains open and leaned out. A while ago, she had figured out that her room was directly above D's. Sure enough, there was a set of windows right below hers. She was quite positive that those were the windows to D's room.

As soon as she had confirmed her speculations, she withdrew herself from the window and closed the curtains again. She cast an anxious look at the closed door. She had work to do, and she had to do everything slowly, or she would make noise and draw suspicion. How much time did she have?

In absolute silence, she opened the bottom drawer of the cabinet in her room. A barely audible sigh of relief escaped her lips when she saw extra pillows and folded sheets. Careful not to make any significant sounds, she hauled out the two pillows and three sheets. Then she flung back the blanket on her bed. Swiftly and silently, she arranged the pillows and sheets in a passably convincing human shape on the mattress. That done, she threw the blanket back over the arrangement. Now it looked like she was asleep with the blanket over her head.

Vianne went back to the window and climbed out onto the narrow ledge that divided the ground floor and the second floor. Clinging to the wall, she shuffled sideways and away from the open window, out of sight from inside the room. With a shaky hand, she pushed the window closed. Before she could close it completely, she heard the door of her room open with a soft click. Quickly, she took her hand away from the window pane.

Carefully, she moved her head a little so she could peek inside. The door of her room opened halfway, and someone stuck his head in. The innkeeper. He was not smiling now. When he saw the motionless lump under the blankets, he entered the room quietly and beckoned to someone behind him. A burly man Vianne had never seen before tiptoed into the room. He held a wooden club.

The innkeeper crept up to the bed and curled his fingers around the edge of the blanket. He exchanged a look with the burly man. Then he yanked the blanket away.

The wooden club landed on the balled sheet lying on the pillow with a flumping sound. Both the innkeeper and the burly man realised that they had been thwarted almost immediately. They started looking around frantically. The innkeeper approached the window.

Vianne knew she was out of options. She stepped backwards off the narrow ledge, and fell. As she fell, she reached up and grabbed the ledge with her hands. She hit the wall with a too-loud thud. Her feet were hanging a couple of metres off the ground below.

"What was that sound?" the burly man asked.

"It came from the window," the innkeeper declared. He sounded livid. "This was supposed to be simple, after that hunter. It's just a slip of a girl after all." He continued to move to the window.

Vianne let go and dropped to the ground. There was a yell from above, and the innkeeper's head poked out of the window. He spotted her. "There she is!" he cried.

"Oh my God," she said fervently as she looked at D's closed window. The innkeeper had already disappeared. Running down the stairs, she expected. Closing her eyes, she ran towards the window and jumped.

She hit the window and crashed through. The loud sound of breaking glass caused several lights to wink on in the windows of surrounding houses. She tumbled to the wooden floor inside in a shower of glass splinters.

"Shit!" she swore when she looked up. There were small cuts on her face and hands from the glass. But those were the least of her worries.

D's bed was empty. More accurately, he was not on it. Instead, there was a large bloodstain in the middle of the mattress. In the middle of all the blood was a large rip in the mattress. A large silver crucifix lay discarded on the floor by the bed. The longest part of it was sharpened at the end, and stained with blood. There were also bullet holes all over. Vianne picked up the nearest empty shell. It glinted in the faint light streaming in from outside. Silver.

She stopped thinking. She got up and dashed madly to the wardrobe. With a tremendous surge of strength, she pushed it over with a loud crash to land right in front of the door. A split second later, there was the thud of a body slamming against the door from outside. Vianne heard loud swearing.

There was no time to pause, no time to think. She snatched D's sword from where it was propped up against the wall by the bed, then vaulted out of the shattered window. Without hesitation, she began to run down the street. Whatever happened, she had to escape first.

But she had no idea where she was going. The sounds of pursuit were already audible behind her. Fleeing at a dead sprint, she screeched around a corner. Beside a closed store, she saw an open door leading into a dark space. She could hear commotion from the junction ahead, as well as from behind. Perhaps she could hide in there first. Without wasting any more time, she ran in, not bothering to close the door.

She ran deeper into the room. Suddenly, her foot met with air and she found herself falling. As she dropped, she hit rough, slimy walls a few times. Finally, she landed in a pool of water several inches deep. The fall knocked all the breath out of her. She was also badly bruised in several places. Shakily, she sat up in the water.

"Where'd the little bitch go?" the voice of the innkeeper demanded from above.

"There's nowhere she could've gone except here," someone replied. "Everything else is locked down."

There was harsh laughter. "She fell into the water pipes maintenance shaft. I heard banging sounds, and a splash."

Vianne felt around in the pitch darkness. She was in a wide, cylindrical shaft. There were metal rungs built into the wall for climbing in and out. There was a low exit right in front of her.

"I'm going down after her," someone announced. There were scrambling sounds from the top of the shaft.

Wasting no time, Vianne ducked through the opening in front of her. Her eyes adjusted a little to the darkness, and she could make out vague shapes. She was in a huge pipe, wading in water up to her waist. The water was frigid. Ignoring the cold, she splashed on through the water, her numb hands clutching D's sheathed sword.

"There's no need, you idiot!" she heard someone yell from the shaft. The voices from above echoed through the pipes. "We'll just flush the pipes, and she'll be dead soon enough."

"I don't want a freaking corpse in my drinking water!" someone protested.

"We'll haul out her body before she starts rotting, you moron! D'you think I want essence of cadaver in my morning tea?"

"Oh my God," Vianne squeaked, tears welling in her eyes, as she thrashed aimlessly through the freezing water. Where was D? What had they done to him?

She tripped on something on the uneven floor, and plunged face first into the water. For a moment she was disoriented, not knowing which was up and which was down. She went rigid, momentarily stunned, suspended in the cold water.

Her lungs started to burn. The pain woke her up. She righted herself and got back on her feet, breaking the surface. Her cramping lungs drew in a huge, grateful breath. She was utterly drenched now. She was so cold, her entire body shivered uncontrollably, and her teeth chattered. Barely able to hold the sword, she struggled forward.

There was a loud roaring sound in the distance behind her. It was getting steadily louder and louder. Vianne flew into a panic. She tried to run, but simply fell again. Ignoring the pain and the cold, she scrambled back up and thrashed madly, trying to pick up speed against the resistance of the water. She was crying out loud now. She was beyond terrified. She was stranded and alone in a dark pipe that was being flushed, and D was not there to protect her.

The roaring became deafening. Vianne whirled around, knowing that it was too late. In the darkness, she could just make out a raging wall of water rushing towards her, stirring up a cold wind as it swallowed up the space in the pipe.

Vianne turned her shoulder to the water just before it hit her. The solid, unforgiving blow of the tons and tons of water felt like it had broken every bone in her petite body. She was tossed head over heels like a rag doll in the water as it swept her along on its conquest of the pipe.

She held her breath, hugging D's sword to her chest tightly, as if it was some sort of talisman and would protect her somehow. The cold seemed to be seeping right through her skin and flesh into her very bones. The numbing iciness was something of a comfort – it distracted her from the slow suffocation she was being subjected to. It was giving her a heady feeling too – or was that because of the lack of oxygen?

Suddenly, she was slammed, hard, against something. The water was still flowing, with great speed and force, against and around her. But she could not go with it. There was a hard metal mesh in her way. Pipe grating.

The crushing force of the water was unbearable. What air Vianne had left was being squeezed out of her, caught as she was in the deadly vice of the grate and the water. She kicked out, as if doing so would free her, somehow. It was in vain. With a reluctant jerk, she gave up the last bubble of air in her lungs. She breathed in hard through her mouth, trying to pull that last breath back, but what rushed down her throat was only water.

_No, no, no!_ With the last of her strength, she thrashed violently against the grate with her legs and body. Her arms were still locked, tight as the grip of a dead man, around D's sword.

It was no use. None of her struggles had done her any good. A deadly, comforting blackness was seeping into her brain. Unconsciousness. In her situation, the messenger of death. Her movements weakened, then stilled. Her body would have gone limp, if it had not been pressed so tightly against the grate by the rushing water.

In that moment, the grate, which was already rusty from years of corrosion by water, gave way and broke. Vianne's motionless body was swept immediately through the jagged hole. Deep lacerations were carved into her arms, legs and side. She spiralled away down the remainder of the pipe, leaving red ribbons of blood in the water. At the other end of the pipe, a valve was shut off, and the water stopped flooding forth.

* * *

It was the biggest mistake D had ever made in his life. And the first potentially fatal one. He had completely underestimated the people of this pretentious town. 

He had realised they meant him deadly harm when a bunch of them had burst into his room, firing pistols with silencers. He had immediately gone for his sword, of course. But he had never reached it. He had not realised just how deadly those bullets had been.

Normal bullets would never have fazed him. But the bullets those townspeople had used had been silver bullets. The moment they had entered his flesh, they had begun sapping his strength. They had hit him with enough to subdue him. They had pinned him on the bed, and stabbed him in the chest with a sharpened crucifix. He had lost consciousness.

Now, he was awake again. They had left the silver bullets in his body. He could feel their deadly, burning coldness. He was chained to a wall with silver-coated steel chains engraved with the cross. That was burning his skin, too.

D looked around, his impassive face betraying none of the deadening agony he was feeling. He was in a dimly lit room with no windows. All the walls were made of smooth grey concrete. From the feel of the air, he was probably underground.

Abruptly, D's expression changed. He could not sense Vianne. Because of the bite, they shared a connection, and he could sense her life force, as well as fluctuations in it that would indicate she had been seriously hurt, or bitten by another vampire, or anything like that.

He had sensed some minor fluctuations, but mostly she had been very much alive. Suddenly, nothing. That burning flame that was her life force had suddenly dimmed to the point that it could no longer be seen. She was either dead, or dangerously close.

The iron door of D's prison opened, and a painfully skinny man in ragged clothes was shoved in roughly. He fell on the floor, too weak to remain on his feet. Fresh bruises and cuts on his body indicated that he had been beaten recently.

The injured man raised his head and gazed at D with large, bloodshot eyes that held no fear. There was only pain and defiance.

"So they got you after all," the emaciated man croaked. His voice was weak. "But the girl … the girl who came to me … she's not here. She got away?"

D looked down at the prone man with cold, dark eyes. "She is either dead or dying. Why are you here? Why did they beat you?"

The man coughed several times. "Dead, is she?" he repeated listlessly when the coughing subsided. "It's a damned pity. A kind, empathetic soul, that girl was. I could tell, just by the look she gave me when she left with the sheriff. She's young and self-centred, granted. But she was gonna grow up to be a real great person. As for me, hunter, I was punished for being a traitor."

"A traitor?"

The man laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah, a traitor. I warned the girl, see. I warned her to get hers and your ass out of this town here. Why didn't she follow my advice?"

"Perhaps she was not given the chance," D answered simply. "Now tell me … what is this place? Why are they after me?"

The man chuckled again, then had another coughing fit. This time, blood spurted from his mouth and splattered the rough concrete floor. "It's a trap, famous hunter D," he choked. "A trap for dhampirs like you." Then his cheek hit the floor. His glassy eyes were wide open. He was dead.


	7. Salvage

**The Legend I**

Once Bitten

_Vampire Hunter D Fan Fiction_

_# Thanks for the reviews and all your support! Here's Chapter 7, a day ahead of schedule. I'm going to have to start writing like a madwoman, since I only have 2 more chapters in reserve. Enjoy, and remember to leave your valuable comments! Cheers._

**Chapter 7: Salvage**

There were no silencers on the guns this time. There was no longer any need. The two men simply came in and fired their pistols. Loud cracks sounded, and more silver bullets drilled into D's torso. He felt his strength ebb even more.

After the shots had been fired, the men retreated. Someone else came in through the door. The mayor. He was fat and round still, but no longer jolly and smiling. The expression on his round, flabby face was one of absolute hatred.

"Most of the dhampirs who come here die without knowing why," the mayor said directly. "But since you are the great, fabled vampire hunter D, I will make an exception for you. I will tell you the truth behind our town. There was no vampire. There never was any vampire. That was just a trick to lure you dhampir hunters here. Vampires leave us alone, dhampir. They leave us alone because we off the most dangerous hunters for them."

"Why would you do that?" D asked calmly. He did not sound particularly fascinated.

"We are hunters, dhampir," the mayor said grandiosely. "We are civilian hunters. But we don't hunt vampires. Not yet, anyway. We are the hunters of dhampirs. We figured, we'll get rid of the half-breeds first, gain some experience. Then we'll kill off those filthy vampires. Like those video games kids used to play, you know. Kill the weaker monsters first, then tackle the bosses."

"Life is not a video game. You are deluded."

"Be quiet, you disgusting half-breed!" the mayor spat. "And you call yourself a hunter. What are you but one of them? Their blood runs in your veins. You deserve to be hunted, just like any old vampire! Instead you cleverly avoid that fate by hunting them. Why doesn't anyone see that you're even more of a threat than a vampire? I mean, they actually _allow_ you near people!"

"Fine," D conceded coldly. "But what of the girl? You harmed her, didn't you? What did she do to you? She was innocent."

The mayor spat at D's feet. "Innocent?" he growled. "Innocent, my ass. What could a young girl possibly be doing travelling by a dhampir's side? She's either your living whiskey bottle, in which case she'll be tainted with your fangs, or your little whore, in which case she's probably carrying your vile spawn. What honourable, respectable girl would follow a dhampir around? She doesn't have marks on her throat. So, you get a good fuck out of her, do you? I bet –"

"That is enough," D said. He had not raised his voice. He did not even sound angry. His voice simply had a deadly, frozen stillness to it that was far more terrifying than any rage.

For a moment, the mayor paled, affected by the frightening quality of D's voice. Soon, however, he recovered. Then he began to laugh. It was a cruel, mirthless laugh. "You get a good fuck out of her, but feel the need to defend her virtue?" he taunted. "How very sweet of you, dhampir. She must be a real angel in bed, huh? You must be cursing us for putting you two in separate rooms. Couldn't even give her a farewell fuck."

If the mayor had expected D to take the bait, he was an idiot. D ignored his provocative comments. In fact, D did not say anything at all.

"Our town is a great big trap for half-breeds like you," the mayor went on, changing the subject. "All the dhampirs who disappeared or died here … I wasn't lying to you about them. They existed. We killed them all. That's how efficient we are."

"I applaud you," D said flatly.

"Don't mock me with your sarcasm, dhampir," the mayor snarled. He kicked the corpse of the beggar at his feet. "The great vampire hunter D. I think, after you, we can graduate to vampires, too. You are the best, no? And we've got you. Soon you'll be as dead as this dickhead traitor. Oh, and you can blame your little lady love for his death. If she hadn't approached him, he'd still be alive, well and begging on the streets."

"It was your hand that damned him."

The mayor ignored that remark. "Ready him," he ordered.

The two men with guns entered the room again. They fired another round into D's body, then approached him. Despite the silver bullets, they were both highly flighty. Each of them took one of D's hands. There were silver spikes on either side of his body, at shoulder height. They pulled on his hands, stretching his arms out straight. Then they mashed his hands against the spikes, impaling his palms and pinning his hands to the wall.

Blood spurted from the huge wounds in the centre of D's palms. He did not flinch or resist as the two men drove long silver nails under his collarbones. The dull, sick thud of the silver being hammered into dense flesh filled the air. Blood splattered the wall, the floor, and the clothes and faces of the two men.

The horrendous, deep wounds throbbed and bled; the silver burned. D felt the pain acutely enough, on top of the constant ache of the bullet wounds. It was, quite frankly, pure agony. But his expression never changed. He still wore that cold, emotionless face that could freeze a brave man in his tracks with a look.

"We've gotten all the silver in, sir," one of the men reported. Both the henchmen hurriedly stepped away from D's bleeding body. They were both sweating.

The mayor made an impatient clucking sound with his tongue. "If you can't watch this, you cowards, get out," he commanded. The henchmen got out. Quickly.

The mayor approached D with slow, steady steps. He held up a mini X-ray scan panel and used it to locate D's beating heart. "We could have put more silver in you in different ways," he informed D as he took out a sharp silver stake and a heavy hammer. "This was designed to be painful. Torture is a waste of time. But this is just a little by-the-way pain."

D said nothing. Even in the face of seemingly unavoidable death, he was calm and stoic.

The mayor placed the sharp end of the stake right over D's heart. He brought the hammer down once, hard.

There was first the chink of metal against metal as the hammerhead met the blunt end of the stake. Then the terrible ripping sound of flesh parting, of muscle rending. And then the dull thump of the stake grinding to a halt, embedded halfway in D's chest. Blood spurted, then trickled slowly from the edges of the hole.

From there, the mayor struck the stake with the hammer a few times in rapid succession, each time with more force. He only stopped when the stake was buried almost all the way in D's chest. Then he backed away and put the hammer down.

"To hell with the weaklings who said the great hunter D can't be killed even with a stake to the heart," he mumbled as he examined D's lifelessly hanging head. With that, he turned and walked out of the room, unbothered by the blood staining his formal suit.

* * *

The gravedigger entered the execution room at a hurried pace. He wanted to get this over with as soon as possible – the unpleasant business of disposing of the dhampir's body. His helper, a young freckled lad with unruly red hair, shuffled in hesitantly after him. 

"Hurry along here, will you, Marcus?" he snapped at the boy. "I don't want to be in here too long. Gives me the creeps."

"All right, all right," Marcus said patronisingly. Still reluctant, he walked up to the corpse.

"Pull out the stake and dig out all the bullets. They're gonna clean and re-forge the silver to use against the next dhampir that comes along."

Marcus grimaced. Plunging his fingers deep into the holes dotting D's torso, he clawed out the silver bullets embedded in the flesh. He tried to ignore the way the flesh squelched and the way the blood got under his fingernails. After that, he helped the gravedigger pull out the silver nails and the stake. Then they pulled his hands off the silver spikes and freed him from the chains.

With a grunt, the gravedigger hoisted the corpse over his shoulder. Trying not to think about what he was carrying, he turned and moved to exit the room.

Marcus tried to shout, but his cry died in his throat, and he choked instead. He pressed himself back against the wall, face paling visibly, as the corpse came to life before his eyes. The dhampir moved faster than he could catch. Within a second, the dhampir was no longer slung over the gravedigger's shoulder. Instead, he was standing over the gravedigger's corpse. He had broken the man's neck with a single twist.

"Oh, God," Marcus whimpered, shrinking back in terror. "No, please, don't hurt me. I swear, I never had a hand in any of this … I just clean up the messes like I'm told …"

D did not touch the boy. He put a hand, which still had a horrible bloody hole in it, to the gaping hole in his chest, stemming the sluggish bleeding. Then he asked, "What did they do to the girl? Where is she now?"

Marcus was trembling so hard, he could barely talk. "What girl?"

"The girl who was with me."

"Oh that … that pretty chick," Marcus stammered nervously. "I … I heard … they flushed her down the … the … the reservoir pipes ... or something …"

"Take me to her."

Marcus shook his head stupidly. "I don't know where she is. And you can't go into town … they'll just catch you all over again. And I'll end up like that old beggar."

"What about the other end of the pipes?"

The redheaded youth looked troubled. Then he said, "Yeah. Yeah, I could show you the way to the reservoir."

* * *

"The water tank in town can be emptied through the pipes back here in a hurry if pressures get too high or something like that," Marcus explained clumsily as he pointed at the large, round pipe opening that fed into a large lake-like reservoir. "If they flushed her out, she'll be around here somewhere … or in the reservoir …" 

Suddenly, he clapped a hand to his mouth. "Oh shit, I forgot about the grating!"

"What grating?" D asked.

"Halfway down the pipe, there's a metal grating. If she entered the pipe from town … she would have gotten caught there …"

Without another word, D went over to the pipe opening. He stepped effortlessly into it. The water flowing out of it did not seem to affect him at all. After a moment of hesitation, Marcus followed the dhampir hunter. He hopped into the pipe, careful not to fall into the reservoir below.

A little ways into the pipe, D stopped. "The grating broke."

"How d'you know? We ain't even there yet," Marcus said incredulously. Then he looked past D's tall, imposing figure, and he saw how.

A large, jagged piece of grating was wedged in the side of the pipe. Tangled in the grid of metal bars was Vianne. There was blood all over her body, and her face was very pale. Her body was twisted at an odd angle, and she was not moving at all. Marcus did not look too closely. He did not want to know the details of what a bloated drowned corpse looked like.

"Oh God, what did they do to her?" he said shakily, turning away. "Oh my God … she's younger than I am …"

D went up to Vianne's body. Within a minute, he had extracted her from the frame of metal. Seemingly to no one, he said, "Are you there?"

A gruff voice said from the vicinity of his mutilated left hand said, "Yeah, I'm still here. That hurt, I tell you. The whole Jesus hand-piercing thing. And I'm disfigured for life! At least until your body heals up …"

D ignored his left hand's humour. "What do you think?"

"Oh, ouch," the left hand said as it was held over Vianne's pale face. "Quite dead, I think. Poor girl. No, wait a minute! Was that a breath I felt? Yeah, it was. Congratulations, it's a baby girl, and she's alive. Barely."

D held Vianne in his arms and walked back out of the pipe, past a dumbstruck Marcus. He laid her out on the dry ground outside. Marcus followed mutely.

"She's alive?" he managed to whisper. His mouth was very dry. "Can … can you save her?"

D picked up one of Vianne's hands and examined the skin, wrinkled from prolonged contact with water. There were small, raw cuts on her hands and face, and far more serious ones on her arms, torso and outer thighs. Even his enhanced vision could barely make out the extremely small rising and falling of her chest as she took shallow breaths.

"No," D replied impassively. "I can only kill. I cannot heal."

Although he was not related to Vianne in any way, Marcus felt as if a heavy blow had been struck to the centre of his chest. They had found her, but that was more or less like finding a piece of salvage unless she could be saved. She was just a little younger than him. Something about her called out to him, too. He could not believe that she deserved to die.

"I can try," he offered in a spurt of daring. "I learnt a bit of first aid from my dad when I was younger. I don't know if it's enough to help her, but …"

D glanced at Marcus. Then he released Vianne's hand and moved aside. Nervously, Marcus crouched down beside her. Hesitantly, he locked his hands over the centre of her chest.

_Don't think anything stupid. You're trying to save her life._ Keeping that thought in mind, he pressed down on her sternum several times, then took a deep breath, leaned down, tilted her head up, and blew into her mouth. He repeated that. On the third try, she coughed into his mouth, then flipped on her side, throwing him off.

Vianne lay on her side and coughed up enough water to fill several glasses. Her face was rather red by the time she finished. But now she was breathing properly. She flopped back onto her back, obviously still very weak. Then she opened her bloodshot eyes.

She blinked. Marcus was leaning over her anxiously. "Who are you?" she asked hoarsely. "Where is D? Is he all right?"

Marcus gaped wordlessly at her for a moment. Then he made a choked sound and pointed off to the side. Her eyes followed his finger. He saw the relief in her eyes when she saw D standing some distance away, and felt a ridiculous stab of jealousy.

Suddenly, panic filled her eyes. She brought her empty hands up before her face. Her eyes widened in horror. "The sword …!"

"What sword?" Marcus asked.

She barely noticed him. "D … your sword … I took it with me when I ran from the hotel … and I'm sure I had it before I passed out … but … it's gone."

D came over now. Marcus scrambled out of the way, blushing furiously. He was beginning to feel very much in the way.

"That's fine. It will turn up," D told Vianne. "And the boy … he saved your life." Without saying any more, he held his left hand over her forehead for a moment. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she was soon asleep.

Marcus peered over the edge of the cliff that dropped away into the reservoir. A long black object wedged between two rocks at the edge of the water near the cascading water from the pipe caught his eye. It was a long sword in a sheath. It belonged to the dhampir. It seemed to have meant something to Vianne, though.

D turned his head slightly when he heard a splash. Leaving Vianne where she was, he got up and went to the edge of the cliff. He could see a small red bob floating in the water below. The boy's head. Marcus had gone down to get the sword.

A few minutes later, the redhead clambered back over the edge of the cliff, having climbed his way back up. He was drenched, and the sword was strapped to his back. He took it off and handed it back to D.

"Thank you."

Marcus considered saying, "No problem," like he usually did when someone thanked him. Something came over him, and he said, "Thank her," instead, gesturing at Vianne.

"I already owe her."

Before Marcus could ask what D meant by that, voices came from the direction of the road leading towards town. "Fucking killed Frederick, that damn dhampir. And no sign of the lad. When we find him, I'm gonna stick a stake in him, burn him and put his ashes in a silver urn," the mayor's unmistakeable voice said.

"They are coming," Marcus breathed. He glanced at Vianne.

"Will you help me?" D asked. There was no plea in his voice. Neither was there command. It was simply a question.

"I will help her," Marcus said. "Because I believe she's innocent."

"Good enough. Wake her and protect her," D said. "If possible, take her away from here."

With that, D turned and walked away unhurriedly towards the direction of the voices, sword still sheathed. Marcus stared after the imposing figure, wondering if he would survive this fight. Part of him wished D the best, yet the other part of him wished that D would be defeated again.

But there was no time to agonise over that now. Marcus turned back to Vianne and took her by the shoulders. "Hey, hey," he called urgently. "Wake up. We have to move."


	8. Puppy Love

**The Legend I**

Once Bitten

_Vampire Hunter D Fan Fiction_

**Chapter 8: Puppy Love**

"Aren't you worried?" Marcus asked curiously. Vianne was allowing him to lead her away from danger without question or protest.

"Not really," she said mildly.

"They have silver."

"You said he has his sword."

"Will that protect him without fail?"

"Probably."

Marcus fell silent, perplexed by Vianne's strange behaviour. When she had first woken up, she had been so flustered over D's safety. Now she was remarkably nonchalant – almost as cool as her pale dhampir companion was.

"If you don't mind me asking," Marcus said tentatively, "how are you related to that dhampir? You aren't really his … whore … like the mayor says, right?"

Vianne gave him a sharp look. "No. I am nobody's whore. But I am bound to him nonetheless," she said stiffly.

Marcus opened his mouth to question her further, but she suddenly blanched and lurched forward, coughing spasmodically. He caught her and stopped her from toppling over. He held her for a few seconds, until her coughing fit subsided. Her face was very pale.

"Are you all right?" he asked her anxiously.

Vianne drew a laboured breath. A wheezing noise sounded in her throat, and she started coughing again. Momentarily at a loss as to what to do, Marcus patted her back gently, hoping to ease the coughing.

"It's the water," he concluded after a while. "You had water in your lungs for too long. Now you've probably got a nasty case of pneumonia or something."

"Marcus! It's Marcus!" someone yelled.

Marcus started and looked up. A small search party, made up of a few rifle-wielding men and pistol-bearing women, came into view on the road ahead. One of the men was pointing straight at Marcus. Everyone was looking right at him.

"He's got the dhampir's little whore with him!" one of the women trilled.

"Marcus, what are you doing?" the first man shouted, running towards Marcus and Vianne with his rifle raised. "Move away, I'm gonna shoot the bitch and make sure she dies this time!"

Instead of moving away, Marcus boosted Vianne onto his back, pulling her arms down around his neck and catching hold of her legs. Then he turned and fled down a narrow side path through the long grass.

"The boy's turned traitor too!" someone with a deep voice roared.

"Then kill him too!" another voice chimed in.

Marcus heard bangs and loud cracks as shots were fired at him. Shocked that the townspeople were actually shooting at him, he sped up, ducking low to avoid head shots. Bullets pummelled the earth around him as he scurried on like a hunted rabbit. Then there was a dull thud, and Vianne cried out with pain.

"Oh, my God, they hit you," Marcus breathed. "Where?"

"Shoulder," Vianne forced out through gritted teeth.

Marcus bit down hard on his lip and ran on. He knew very well where the path led – he used to explore a lot as a kid. Sure enough, the dilapidated house soon came into view. The stained walls, cracked windows and crumbling roof tiles projected an unwelcoming image, but Marcus knew he had no choice. He was probably the only one who knew the layout of the interior of that house. He had explored it on a dare at the age of ten; everyone else considered it too dangerous to enter. He just hoped that nothing had collapsed in there.

With a last, desperate surge of speed, he barrelled through the rotting wooden door of the house, ducked, and ran aside. A split second later, there was the sound of splintering wood as bullets tore through the door.

Before anyone came in through the ruined door and saw him, Marcus ducked into a dark doorway, slamming the rusted iron door behind him. Without hesitation, he dashed down the spiralling stone stairs in front of him. Automatic lights that still worked, miraculously, flashed on as he approached and off after he had passed.

At the bottom of the stairs, Marcus came to a long passageway. The automatic lights here were no longer bare white light bulbs. They were dim red strips set along the floor. Dark alcoves sat at regular intervals along the passageway. He was in an old wine cellar.

Instead of following the passageway, Marcus squeezed himself and Vianne into the nearest alcove. To his relief, the alcove went all the way through, as he vaguely remembered it should, into a small chamber. More stairs led further down into inky darkness. Marcus plunged down them.

It was a very long flight of stairs. The temperature dropped noticeably as Marcus descended. Finally, the floor levelled out, and Marcus found himself in a large round chamber. There were curved pieces of rotted wood littering the ground near the walls. The remains of old wine casks. There was a musty, cloying smell in the air, and it was very cold. It was also very damp, and small puddles of condensation had formed on the uneven ground.

Marcus eased Vianne off his back and onto the cold, hard-packed dirt floor. Her face was paler than ever, and pinched with pain. A sheen of cold sweat coated her forehead. He felt her hands, then her cheeks. Her cheeks were burning with fever, but her hands were icy.

He turned her onto her side and examined her back. On the back of her left shoulder was a bullet hole. Trying not to disturb the inflamed hole too much, he examined it. The blood-smeared silver bullet was wedged inside.

"Get it out of me!" she gasped. "It burns! Get it out!"

Upon hearing her pain-filled voice, Marcus flew into a panic. "How?" he demanded.

"I don't care how!" Vianne snapped. "Use your fingers! Just get it out!"

Marcus gulped and eyed the bloody hole in her back. After a moment of hesitation, he turned away, squeezed his eyes shut, and poked. His thumb and index finger slipped into the wound and touched the bullet. Warm blood and raw flesh surrounded his fingers. Trying to ignore the horrible squishing and squelching of the flesh around his fingers, he wriggled them into place around the bullet. Vianne was making soft, choked noises as she tried her best to suppress her cries of pain. Tears were pouring from her eyes.

Wasting no time, Marcus pulled, hard. His hand came free of the bullet hole with a horrid sucking sound, with the gore-coated bullet pinched between his bloodied finger and thumb. As the bullet left her flesh, Vianne gave a sharp gasp, then her overly tensed body relaxed. Marcus dropped the bullet.

"Are you all right?" he asked worriedly when there was no movement from Vianne.

There was no sound but harsh, ragged breathing for a while. Then, slowly, painfully, Vianne sat up, coughing. Although her face was no longer contorted with pain, it was still very pale. Her bloodshot, slightly swollen eyes regarded him as she wiped the glistening tears from her cheeks. "Thank you," she said finally. "But why are you helping me?"

"There are girls your age in town," Marcus said in a roundabout way. "I don't know them, since none of them want to get too close to the gravedigger's assistant. But I always see them hanging out and having fun around town, and when I saw you I thought that you aren't so different from them. And young girls like that shouldn't have to die."

Vianne considered his explanation for a moment. Then she said in a toneless, quiet voice, "I'm not like them. I'm nothing like them."

"Just because you travel with a dhampir, for whatever reason?" Marcus responded. "I don't know what you're doing around him, or why you think you're bound to him, but I don't think that changes what you are."

In the same voice, Vianne asked, "What's your name?"

Marcus blinked, momentarily confused by the sudden change of subject. After a couple of seconds, he recovered and said, "I'm Marcus."

"My name is Vianne," she informed him.

He smiled. "That's a pretty name. I like the way you pronounce it."

"Thanks," she responded noncommittally. A few moments later, she rubbed her hands together, and then blew on them. "It's cold."

Marcus frowned. Suddenly, he noticed once more the soft rasping or her laboured breathing, and the paleness of her face. He had forgotten how bad a state she was in; he had been too exhilarated just to be able to talk to her properly.

Barely hesitating, he took off his rough woollen jacket and offered it to Vianne. The cold pierced his shirt and stabbed into his skin like a thousand needles, but she needed the jacket more than he did. For some reason, that was all that mattered.

Vianne glanced at the jacket, then at Marcus's face. Her eyes lingered on his face even as she took the jacket from him with a shaking hand – she was so cold, and felt so weak. Even as she struggled to breathe the frigid air, even as she fought her fever and waves of giddiness, the somewhat enraptured expression on his face intrigued her. No one had ever looked at her like that. It was the sort of look she would expect people to give D, but perhaps milder.

Abruptly, she realised she was staring. Vaguely embarrassed, she turned her gaze to the floor. Then she caught sight of her dim, hazy reflection in one of the puddles. That reminded her – she had not seen a mirror since she had left her town with D. Although the image in the water was blurry, she could tell that she had changed. Perhaps it was the bite, perhaps it was the ordeal she had been through in this town, or perhaps it was a combination of both factors, but her cheeks had sunken in slightly. Her face was noticeably gaunter than she remembered. In no way did she resemble a starved beggar child, but her cheekbones had become more pronounced, making her face a little more angular.

The light fell differently on her face, somehow. The shadows cast upon it were deeper, larger, and darker. Her eyes seemed deeper-set, yet brighter. It was still her face, but the subtle changes had changed the quality of her features. She knew she had always been blessed with a pretty face, but the change had added a dark elegance to it, such that her face was no longer just pretty, but held a faint cast of mysterious beauty.

_Like him,_ Vianne thought darkly. _I've become like him. Not quite as spellbinding, but the same enchanting quality is there._

Equipped with new understanding, Vianne raised her head and met Marcus's eyes, seeing the obvious attraction in them. The look in his eyes was like a crushing weight upon her soul. Was she going to start messing with people's hearts without intending to, like D? Evidently her charm would not be as powerful, but the very thought of leaving a trail of pain repulsed her.

Worst of all, no one knew about the bite. Everyone knew D was a dangerous dhampir hunter, and common sense kept people a safe distance from him. But Marcus thought she was human.

"You asked me why I stay with D," she said softly. Without waiting for a response, she pulled up her left sleeve a couple of inches, revealing the ragged scar from the cut, and more importantly the fang marks right beside it. "This is the reason. The bite binds me to him."

The colour seemed to drain from Marcus's freckled, honest face. The rapture in his eyes retreated slightly, and became partially masked by shock. "He bit you?" he breathed in horror. "He bit you, but still sees fit to call himself a hunter? Why do you worry about him so much? Why don't you hate him?"

"It was an accident," she said quickly, before he bombarded her with more questions. "It was my choice to risk it, and I alone will bear the blame for the consequences. You weren't there. You won't understand."

Marcus took an unsteady breath to say something. Before his lips formed the first words, however, he closed his mouth and held up a finger in front of it to warn Vianne not to talk. Faint voices and footsteps could be heard from above. The two teenagers remained completely silent, listening intently to the sounds coming from the passages above.

The noises made by the search party grew louder, until they seemed to be coming from the top of the stairs leading down into the secret chamber. Then, slowly, the sounds faded away in the other direction. They were moving deeper into the passages, not realising that there was a secret stairway behind one of the alcoves.

Marcus waited till the noises were completely gone before he whispered, "They've gone deeper into the cellar. It's a long way in, but it's a dead end on the other side. They'll have to come back this way later, but it will take them some time. We should take this chance to escape. I'll get you out of here, and find you someplace far from town to hide."

"You're still going to help me?" Vianne asked incredulously.

His voice was steady as he said, "I can't stay here, anyway. Might as well stick it out to the end and flee with you."

She glanced up the flight of stairs nervously. "I'm not well, Marcus," she told him. "It's an effort just for me to sit up and talk to you like this. I'll slow you down."

Marcus glanced into her eyes, then smiled sadly. "You want me to escape alone and leave you here, because you think that he will come and save you if they find you."

"Whatever. I just don't understand why you would still risk your life for me."

Marcus did not answer. He stood up, and held out his hand to help her up. "I've never had a crush on a girl before. Never had the time, or the chance. It's not cool to leave your first crush to die."

For a brief moment she gaped at him, dumbstruck. The cynical teenage girl in her went, _God, what a loser; it's a life and death situation and he's confessing?_ The rest of her was a mixed jumble of feelings. She was flattered, surprised, incredulous and fearful at the same time.

But time was of the essence – they had to slip out before the search party came back. She would deal with this later. Reaching up, she took his hand. He pulled.

As Vianne rose, an overwhelming surge of weakness flooded through her body, accompanied by a particularly severe wave of dizziness. Unable to remain on her feet, she dropped back onto her knees.

Marcus bit his lip in frustration. Her hand was icy in his. Boldly, he brought his free hand to her forehead, and felt the burning fever through the sheen of cold sweat. Without saying a word, he turned around and pulled her onto his back. He would carry her out of here piggyback, like how he had brought her in.

"Hey, look, maybe you should just …"

"Be quiet," Marcus cut her off. "We're going up."

With Vianne clinging weakly to his back, Marcus climbed the long flight of stairs and squeezed out of the alcove into the main passageway again. All was quiet.

Marcus moved towards the stairs that led upwards into the house. All of a sudden, footsteps sounded behind them again. Muffled voices mumbled, "Damn, the entire ceiling collapsed … can't go any further … but if they're in there they're probably trapped anyway …"

Before he could find a place to hide, the search party came around the corner and into view. His brain barely registered the guns being raised. His body reacted first, swinging Vianne off his back. He hugged her close and turned his back to the townspeople. They opened fire.

Marcus saw Vianne's eyes open wide in horror and shock as a dozen bullets tore into his back. His body jerked like a rag doll being flung around as they fired a second round into him. This time, he summoned the last of his strength and pushed Vianne away, towards the stairs. "Run."

Vianne staggered back, her legs threatening to give way. Marcus's eyes were still wide open as his lifeless body collapsed limply to the floor. Somehow, the sight of the bloodied corpse gave her a spurt of strength. She knew there was no point in staying. It would only be a waste of his sacrifice.

Before the townspeople could aim at her, she turned and scrambled up the stairs. Bullets pummelled the steps beneath her, stirring up clouds of dust and causing bits of stone to fly everywhere. She fell, but struggled upwards on her hands and knees. The search party fired off more shots, then abandoned the futile firing exercise and ran after her.

By merit of some miracle, Vianne got to the top of the cellar stairs with no further injuries, other than bruises on her arms and legs. Before her pursuers caught up, she scrambled to her feet and stumbled away from the stairs as fast as she could.

She followed the tracks in the dust left by both Marcus and the search party. With the sounds of pursuit still close behind her, she crashed out of the front door of the abandoned house and broke into an unsteady run back towards the reservoir where she had last seen D.


	9. Vengeance

**The Legend I**

Once Bitten

_Vampire Hunter D Fan Fiction_

_# Thanks to Kitala, Lillix Vail, Night Cat2 and Rayvne Rayne for reviewing so far! Love y'all! Here's chapter 9, one of my personal favourites for this story. I'm particularly proud of the ending; when I started writing this chapter I didn't really expect it to turn out like that. Well, I hope you all like it too. Cheers!_

**Chapter 9: Vengeance**

D stood right in the centre of the ring of mutilated corpses. Each body was sliced clean through its torso. Broken ribs, severed spines and masses of innards were clearly visible. Each contorted face held wide, terror-filled eyes, eyes that had watched their owners' blood being spilled without ever having seen the dhampir draw his sword.

Only the mayor remained. He stood a few yards away from the grisly circle of cadavers, his face pale from fright. Only his fierce pride stopped him from breaking and running. With a sharp flick, D got rid of the blood, small shards of bone and fragments of organs sticking to his sword. Slowly, deliberately, he sheathed it over his right shoulder.

The mayor broke. Turning on his heel, he pelted away from D as quickly as he could, firing a few blind shots over his shoulder with his pistol.

Suddenly, a human-sized something crashed into him from his blindside. The nerve-wrecked man freaked out and turned his gun on the new arrival, firing shot after shot into the black form that held onto his coat, as if for support.

About five shots later, the mayor realised that he was shooting into the torso of the dhampir's young female companion. Her face was deathly pale, and the skin on her hands was cold to the touch. He watched in a mixture of horror and brutal satisfaction as her eyes glazed over, and blood trickled from the corners of her mouth. Then he pushed her away and sprinted away.

D, who had been running after the mayor with inhuman speed, made such an abrupt stop that any human attempting it would have fallen over. He, however, made it look like he had simply stopped walking. He dropped to one knee beside Vianne's prone form.

His right hand touched first her face, which was damp but burning hot, and then her hand, which was cold and clammy. Her hair and clothes were drenched in cold sweat. Besides the five pistol bullet wounds scattered over her front torso, there was a still-bleeding shotgun wound on the back of her shoulder.

"There!" a breathless voice yelled.

D looked up. A small crowd of armed townspeople had charged out of a stand of trees and was heading in his direction. They had been chasing Vianne. They were probably also the ones who had inflicted the wound on her shoulder.

Seemingly in no particular hurry, D held his left hand about a foot above Vianne's chest. "Get the bullets out," he commanded softly.

"Slave driver," his left hand growled resentfully. Then a fierce suction started from the mouth of the face on D's left palm. The wind from the suction buffeted Vianne's hair and clothes, as well as D's cloak. With almost-comical popping sounds, all five bullets shot out of her body.

At that exact instant, the suction stopped. The bloodstained bullets hung motionless in the air for a moment. Then wind started rushing out of D's left hand. Just as the armed members of the search party raised their guns to fire, the five bullets shot out towards the group, propelled by the unnatural wind. There were loud cries of pain, and five of the gunmen fell.

While the remaining men and women were still startled by what had conspired, D brought his hand to the hilt of his sword. The moment his hand closed around the hilt over his right shoulder, he vanished from Vianne's side.

The townspeople only saw a black blur and flashes of silver. The ghostly, whirring song of D's blade broke their stunned silence. D reappeared at the back of the group, his sword already halfway back into its sheath. There was a soft click as the crossguard met the edge of the sheath.

There was a series of loud cracks. Every gun held by the townspeople broke in half, and the pieces clattered to the floor. Oddly, the owners of the ruined weapons stood stock-still among their companions, neither posture nor expression changing. The reason became evident a second later, when blood sprayed into the air and viscera splattered the ground.

D walked calmly past the fine red mist that hung in the air as all the corpses collapsed, each body cut neatly in two. The gore was not overly gruesome, perhaps because it had been spilt by one who could make even the cruellest death seem beautiful. D returned to Vianne's side. Dropping once more to a crouch, he examined her.

The damage had been done. Bullets or no bullets, Vianne still lay like a corpse upon the ground. D placed two fingers against her throat and felt only the weakest of pulses. Even his extremely sensitive senses could barely detect it. She was not dead, but she was so close that there might as well have been no difference.

"She is going to die," his left hand said gruffly. "But you can save her."

D's eyes darted to the puncture wounds on Vianne's left wrist. That bite was a curse upon her. But that bite could also save her. Yet he hesitated.

"You've already bitten her once," his left hand reasoned. "What better reason for you to do it again than to save her life? It's not like you're going to change her. But when you bite her, you temporarily transfer your vampiric vitality into her. It will accelerate her healing process – repair the damage before it takes her life. You know that."

D clenched his left hand tightly, shutting the parasite up. A precious moment passed. Then he lifted Vianne's left hand from the ground and bit into the exact same spot on her wrist as he had when she had been feeding him blood to save him from sun poisoning.

It was the first time he had ever voluntarily bitten someone. It was as if he had suddenly realised how hungry for blood he was, and it took all of his immense willpower to hold back the urge to drain her dry. Constantly battling with himself, he drank slowly, only a few drops at a time – she had already lost too much blood. Besides, the objective of the bite was not for him to feed, but for her to heal.

D held himself there for as long as he dared. Then, when the monster in him seemed about to break free, he broke away and flung himself around, away from her. Wiping her blood from his lips, he took a few seconds to suppress the ravenous beast within. When he was sure it had retreated, and was no longer tainting his mind with bloodlust, he turned back around to check on Vianne.

Just by looking, he could tell that it had worked. Her wounds had, for the most part, closed up, and a faint tinge of colour had returned to her cheeks. She was still having a fever, and from the taste of her blood D knew why. She had come down with pneumonia, and that was beyond his regenerative powers to cure. After all, vampires never fell sick, so they had never developed any bodily mechanisms to combat illnesses.

Vianne's body jerked as she coughed violently. From the sound, it was obvious that her throat and lungs were thick with phlegm. When she opened her eyes, they were dazed and unfocussed. She was conscious, but barely.

"D …" she rasped, weakly reaching in his general direction.

"Where is the boy?" he asked her.

"He's dead. They killed him when he tried to protect me. Am I going to die?"

"No," he replied. "You will live."

A horrid sound crackled from her throat as she laughed mirthlessly. "Don't screw around. He shot me a few times. I felt it, heard it, before I blacked out."

"Does it hurt?" D asked calmly.

Vianne smiled wanly. "Strangely, no. But otherwise I feel like crap."

"That's your pneumonia acting up," D's left hand chipped in helpfully.

D took Vianne's outstretched hand and guided it to her own abdomen, letting her feel the bloodied but unbroken skin there. He let go of her and repeated, "You will live."

Vianne slipped a finger through a hole in her shirt and ascertained that there was no corresponding hole in her body. Then her eyes closed, and she smiled. "I understand now," she murmured, her voice trailing off. "You saved me …"

She did not say any more. Her breathing was shallow and shaky, but even. Her battered body was forcing her to rest. She was asleep.

* * *

Ferrucio flung the five naked doxies off the bed. They hit the floor of the carriage with soft moans. With a low growl, he sat up on the bed, his bare chest heaving. 

He had pleasured himself with them – all five of them, like he did every night since losing his latest catch to her dhampir guardian. Yet he had gained no satisfaction. The five women were too weak, too limp, too cold. He had already drained too much of their blood, and they were hardly good for anything but fodder now. He still found himself longing for the young, warm flesh of that girl, for the vitality that flowed strongly in her veins. It was something that no pathetic doxy could give him.

Flinging the rumpled sheets off himself, Ferrucio got up from the bed and looked towards the other end of the carriage. Angelica sat curled on the bench with her eyes squeezed shut. She had endured the five women's enraptured moans and his own grunts of effort for two hours.

Carelessly, Ferrucio lifted one of the women on the floor by her hair and sunk his teeth into her neck, drawing blood in a crude manner that was quite uncharacteristic of him. The doxy made soft, wistful sounds and latched weakly onto him, rubbing herself against him as he drank.

When the doxy became too aroused, and her undulating too vigorous for his liking, Ferrucio dropped her and kicked her aside. Stepping over a couple more bodies, he made his way across the carriage to where Angelica sat.

He laid a hand on her cheek. She flinched at his touch. "Look at me, Angelica," Ferrucio said in a low, hoarse voice. His voice became deeper and otherworldly as he added, "Look into my eyes."

Involuntarily, Angelica opened her eyes and took in his lanky nakedness. She tried to look away, but his persuasive spell caused her to look up into his eyes. Once their eyes met, she let out a weak sigh, and her eyes misted over.

Ferrucio picked her up and carried her to the bed, kicking more weakly indignant doxies aside as he did. He lay her down upon the mattress and leaned over her. Then he sank his fangs, slowly and deliberately, into her neck. _This is for tricking me like you did, little girl. I have bitten the woman you gambled to save._

Angelica's blood was warm and thick, quite unlike the lukewarm, thin blood of the other women. But of course, he was biting her for the first time. A soft groan escaped her lips.

Ferrucio felt blood rush to his loins with long-lost vigour when he heard that groan. Lifting his head from Angelica's neck, he tore her dress apart and ripped the pieces off her. He bore down. A sharp gasp escaped her throat, and she arched up against him.

He repeated his motion again, harder this time. She reached up and dug her nails into his shoulders. He did it again, and again, gaining speed and strength as he went. Angelica's eyes cleared, and she was fully conscious once more, but she was already powerless to resist. She threw her head back and cried out in time to the movements below, wrapping her legs around his hips.

"You like this," Ferrucio whispered harshly, working even harder. His hands came down on her full breasts and massaged them in time to the rocking of his hips. "You want this."

Angelica's back was so arched that it looked about to snap in half. Choked cries ripped from her throat as he slammed against her again and again. "I want this," she admitted breathlessly. "Don't … don't stop."

Ferrucio froze let his head fall back as he reached the peak of his ecstasy. Angelica sighed as she felt his release. _Revenge is sweet,_ Ferrucio thought. _In more ways than one._

_

* * *

_The town was near-empty. The only people hiding in their homes were women who could not fight, the elderly, and young children. D entered, bearing Vianne in his arms, without encountering anyone. He made his way back to the inn where they had been ambushed. 

Ignoring the main building, he entered the barn beside it. His horse was still tethered within. If he was surprised at that, he showed no sign of it. He walked into the stall where his horse was kept and gently laid Vianne down on a pile of straw such that she leaned against the wall.

D exited the stall and made sure that Vianne was out of sight from outside. Then he left the stable. At an unhurried pace, he moved through the deserted streets and found his way to the town hall near the centre of the town. When he arrived, he found the front door locked and barricaded, just as he had expected.

It happened in a split second. From within its sheath, D's sword had suddenly sprung into his hand, and now hung poised a few inches above his head. Almost simultaneously, a loud ping sounded and sparks flew as a silver bullet, fired from the upstairs window of the building, ricocheted off the blade.

"Why have you returned, filthy dhampir?" the mayor's voice yelled from somewhere above D. "Do you wish to die that badly?"

D was unaffected by the mayor's bravado. They both knew that D's capture and attempted murder would not happen again. The mayor had lost his advantages of surprise and numbers, and there was no way he could incapacitate D again now, unless he had a few dozen powerful vampire Nobles under his command.

"You failed to kill me," D responded icily, "and you will never get another chance to try again. Your actions have resulted in the deaths of half the people in your village, including a child. You almost killed an innocent girl. Not to mention the lives that have been lost because you killed the hunters who could have saved them. All that will end now."

There was no answer from above. A few seconds later, the mayor's upper body appeared, framed by the open second-floor window. Without delay, he raised his gun and emptied the magazine at D.

The song of D's blade rang out stridently amidst the pings of hot silver against cool steel. D himself became a black blur enclosed in a web of silver light. When the last bullet had been deflected, his long sword made a final arc, and the mayor's front door fell in two pieces. Almost as part of the same movement, D slipped in through the doorway.

Everything happened so fast that, to the mayor, D had simply disappeared after deflecting all his shots. Bewildered and panicky, he leaned out of the window to get a better look. Almost immediately, he felt the touch of freezing metal on the side of his neck.

"How did you get up here?" he asked, his voice strangely calm. He knew that the blade against his neck belonged to D, and that he had lost.

"It doesn't matter." D's voice was cold, so cold that it burned. "You're dead."

"Daddy!" a high-pitched voice cried out from behind the two men by the window. D turned his head ever so slightly, and his eyes drifted back to look over his shoulder. A tiny, blonde girl or about six or seven years of age charged into the room, completely disregarding the danger. When she saw D, she froze in her tracks, mouth agape.

"Belinda, no! Get away!" the mayor yelled, his quietly defeated demeanour quickly becoming one of anxiety and panic.

"Don't hurt my daddy!" the girl shrieked at D, planting both hands on her hips like a stern matron. She seemed to have gotten over her shock, and no longer seemed the slightest bit frightened. "Or momma and I will never forgive you!"

"Belinda, run! He won't –"

Before the mayor had the opportunity to say what D would not do, the stoic dhampir cut in, in his cool, soft voice, "Go back to where your mother is."

"Take your sword away from my daddy's neck first!" Belinda demanded.

A flash of red seemed to appear, for the briefest moment, in D's eyes as he looked sideways at the little girl so fearlessly making demands of him. "Go."

Belinda gasped and stumbled back, as if stricken. Tears filled her eyes, and she ran out. "Momma!" she bawled as she ran. "A dhampir is going to kill daddy!"

The mayor could feel the enormous killer intent in the air, mixed with a terrifying inhuman aura, emanating from the pale hunter at his side. As his daughter's sobs faded down the corridor, he closed his eyes, prepared to never open them again.

All of a sudden, the heavy, oppressive killer intent vanished, and the smothering aura lightened considerably. The mayor squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, unsure of what trick the dhampir was up to.

"Remember this," D's quiet voice sounded, near the mayor's ear. "Remember what happened here today. Then you decide if your town needs a new direction."

The blade was removed from the mayor's neck. He remained still, with his eyes closed. He heard the rasp of the sword being sheathed, then light footsteps. What did D mean? The mayor's heart beat wildly in his chest.

A few seconds later, he heard his daughter's voice. "Daddy!" she cried out from the direction of the doorway. "You're okay!"

Only then did he open his eyes and turn around. His wife and daughter ran into the room and embraced him, the worry and fear on their faces morphing into relief. As his wife dabbed the cold sweat from his forehead, he realised what had happened.

D had shown him the mercy he had withheld from all the dhampir hunters he had killed. D had given mercy when he and his companion had received none. The mayor understood. He understood perfectly now.


	10. Vampire Hunter

**The Legend I**

Once Bitten

_Vampire Hunter D Fan Fiction_

_# Hi all! First of all I want to say that I'm so glad everyone seemed to like the previous chapter! Like I said, it was my favourite, and it's great that others are impressed by it too. I'm sorry for the late release this week; I've been a little busy. It's just a content chapter to set the stage for the finale. Yes, that's right, this arc of the story is ending in the next chapter! Or maybe the next two, if I can't make it fit. Presenting Chapter 10, hot off the press (I finished it 10minutes before release)!_

**Chapter 10: Vampire Hunter**

It was midnight. The carriage rolled to a stop just outside the village. The door swung open, and a low, unearthly sound drifted out of the dark interior. It was music – strains of dark siren song from another world.

A few minutes later, the doors of two of the houses near to the village entrance swung open with eerie creaks. From each house emerged a pretty young woman in her nightgown. Both girls had expressionless faces and blank, dazed eyes. As soon as they had stepped out of their houses, the doors clicked shut behind them.

Like puppets, the women began to walk unsteadily towards the carriage in the dark. The creatures within were summoning them, under the orders of the master of the carriage, and mere mortal women could only heed that call.

The first woman reached the open carriage door. Five deathly pale, waxy-skinned women with gaunt faces crowded around the opening and drew her up the steps with emaciated arms.

A few metres away from the carriage, the second woman seemed to hesitate. She stood in her thin nightgown in the chilly night air, swaying in the wind, as if confused.

"Come, sister," the five doxies crooned as one, holding out their bony long-fingered hands.

There could no longer be any resistance. The remaining woman took the last few steps, and vanished into the carriage. The door slammed shut, cutting off the otherworldly singing of the doxies, and the carriage sped off towards the old deserted Noble castle on top of the highest hill overlooking the village in the valley.

* * *

It was after two days of continuous riding that D arrived at the small village surrounded by hills. Vianne was propped up in the saddle in front of him, asleep again. She had spent the long hours on the move drifting in and out of sleep. Even now, she still burned with fever. Her face remained pale and sickly.

D stopped his horse at the entrance to the village and dropped the reins over a nearby fencepost. Then he ventured into the village on foot with Vianne in his arms. As he walked along the wide, beaten path that served as the main road, people came out of their houses to stare, both in wonder and in fear.

Soon, a small crowd had gathered all around him, moving with him as he walked deeper into the village. A tall, thin, greying man elbowed his way through the crowd to face D. From the way the curious villagers did not village, D deduced that this man was the village head.

"So you're finally here," he said sternly. "Two of our women have been taken by a vampire. Someone saw the carriage two nights ago. He's retreated into the castle at –"

"Wait," D said. That was it; a single word from him, spoken without excessive force or inflection, and the village head fell silent. He moved aside for D to pass, as did the crowd.

D moved through the still, quiet crowd, searching the faces surrounding him. He could not find a single one that was not filled with fear and suspicion. Then, through the crowd, he caught sight of the old church.

An aged priest with white hair and uncountable wrinkles stood in the churchyard, calmly and silently surveying the scene. Kindness shone through in his clear blue eyes, which did not darken or harden when they landed on D's dark figure. His eyes were non-judgemental; his kindness was in his nature, and extended to all beings until they proved themselves unworthy.

D moved towards the church. The crowd parted unresistingly before him. When he approached, the priest did not smile, but did not shy away or show revulsion either. "What can I do for you?" the elderly man asked simply.

The dhampir hunter walked past the priest into the chapel. Carefully, he laid Vianne down on one of the wooden pews. "I have a favour to ask of you. Please watch over her for me," he said.

This time, the priest smiled. "Until you return from your task? But of course," he acquiesced. "It seems that she is ill. Shall I tend to that as well?"

"I would be very grateful."

"Then I will," the priest promised. In a louder voice, obviously meant for the crowd to hear, he asked, "But might I enquire as to who this young lady might be?"

D only hesitated for a split second before saying, "Someone I saved from a vampire. She still walks in the light." It was all true.

The priest smiled wryly and glanced up towards the bright sky. "Evidently."

In a bare whisper, he added, "Go forth and do your job, vampire hunter. I will keep her safe, and no harm will come to her while you fulfil your task. Godspeed to you, and may you be blessed."

Only D heard him, which was how he had meant it. It was good enough. D turned away to listen to the village chief, his one worry relieved at last. Now, he had to go back to what he did best – the job of a vampire hunter.

* * *

By day, the castle simply looked like an ancient, majestic crumbling ruin. Yet, looking at the ragged stone walls, one could just imagine how shadows would fill all those crevices at night, and give the castle a new, spooky quality.

The castle was huge; it loomed, a huge monolith, over D as he rode his black cyborg horse towards it. The elaborate wrought iron gates alone towered over him. D stopped his horse right in front of the rusting gates that were many times taller than he was.

Several metres above him was the spot where the gates were bound shut by dully gleaming black chains, set in place by the vampire who had entered recently. He simply sat in the saddle and looked up at it for a long moment. Then he moved.

He slipped his feet into the stirrups hanging down from his horse's sides, lifting himself slightly from the saddle and shifting his weight to his feet. From this half-crouch, he leapt straight up in the air, reaching back for his sword as he did so.

It all took place in an instant. A silver arc seared through the air, accompanied by the eerie song that always came with it. Then the sword was back in its sheath, and D was on one knee on the ground behind his horse. A second later, the chains fell away from the gate, cut cleanly in two.

D straightened and walked towards the gates. With no apparent effort at all, he pushed the huge, heavy iron gates open. Then he remounted his horse and rode into the castle grounds.

* * *

Ferrucio was in bed with the two girls from the nearby village. Angelica stood silently in the doorway of the large bedroom and watched the writhing movements under the sheets. Occasionally, she glanced back to check for the presence of the other five women in the castle. They had all been fully changed, and were no longer the limp, weak doxies that they used to be. They were vicious predators, much like their master. They had been ordered not to touch Angelica, but she still feared them. She was on her own in this place.

Subconsciously, Angelica fingered the puncture wounds on her own neck. She had been fighting the change for days. She refused to become a pathetic doxy who would eventually turn into a bloodthirsty monster. She would resist the hold Ferrucio had over her, and as long as he did not bite her again, she still had a chance.

Checking once again to make sure that none of the five vampire brides were watching her, she pulled out the long dagger she had stolen from the rack on the wall in the hall and hidden in the folds of her dress. Memories of what Ferrucio had done to her bubbled to the surface of her mind, making her feel unclean again.

_I'm sorry, Terry. Please give me strength for this._ Keeping the image of her dead husband's smiling face firmly in her mind, Angelica slipped into the room on silent feet.

She walked up to the bed. Taking a deep breath to calm her racing nerves, she cleared her throat. Immediately the sheets were thrown off, and Ferrucio sat up. His bare shoulders were covered in scratches.

"Yes, Angelica dear?" he asked. "I'm rather busy."

"I want to go home!" Angelica cried as she whipped out the dagger hidden behind her back and stabbed at Ferrucio's left chest.

The next thing she knew, there was a sharp pain in her wrist, and the dagger had fallen from her nerveless hands. Ferrucio, unscathed and livid, grabbed her by the hair and dragged her to the large stained glass window opposite the bed.

"You dare to try and kill me, Angelica?" he bellowed, his presence seeming to fill the entire room. "You foolish, pathetic woman. Now you're going to have to die."

Angelica laughed, despite the tears of fear and pain trailing down her cheeks. "That's still better than being your bride," she spat. "For your information, I have a husband, and his name was Terry."

With her left hand, she pulled out the small dagger she had hidden along with the longer one and stabbed wildly with it. Somehow, in her desperation, she managed to plunge the blade deep into Ferrucio's side. With a wild roar of pain and fury, Ferrucio flung her at the window.

Angelica squeezed her eyes shut as her body smashed through the stained glass. She could feel the jagged shards of glass tearing through her skin. And then she began to fall.

_I'm coming, Terry. I'm coming._

* * *

The sound of shattering glass caused D to look up. A large stained glass window on one of the upper floors of the castle had broken. Shards of glass and what appeared to be the body of a woman were falling.

D was still on the other side of the grounds. At a gentle touch of the reins, his horse broke into a gallop towards the spot where the woman was falling.

Halfway across the grounds, D knew that he would not make it. The grounds were simply too big. Even the augmented hooves of his mount would not be able to carry him to the castle fast enough to catch the woman before she hit the ground. Nevertheless, he spurred the horse on.

He was only about ten metres away from the castle wall now. The woman was only about the same distance from the ground, and falling at an insane speed. Without warning, D hurled himself out of the saddle. His horse let out a panicked neigh as the force of his jump sent it tumbling head over heels.

D hit the ground a split second before the woman would have, and executed a lightning-quick roll under her. He grabbed her, breaking her fall, and straightened up carrying her in his arms. Then he looked down, and saw that he need not have bothered. A large shard of green glass was wedged deep in her throat. Her eyes were wide and glassy – she was already dead.

Still carrying the woman's corpse, D walked up to the heavy double doors of the castle. He shoved one side open with his shoulder and entered. He now stood in a magnificent, if rather dusty, great hall. His feet stirred up clouds of dust from the thick red carpet as he crossed the hall towards the blazing fireplace on the other end.

D laid the woman's body down right in front of the fireplace. Then he tossed the hem of her dress into the flames. The fire spread through the fabric onto the corpse and began to hungrily consume it. D simply turned away and made his way up one of the curving marble stairways on either side of the hearth.

The acrid stench of sizzling flesh rose with him as he scaled the impressive set of stairs onto a wide landing on the second floor. A high archway led deeper into the castle. Heavy crimson velvet drapes hid what was beyond the archway.

Perhaps sensing something, D stood where he was at the top of the stairs. A moment later, the curtains obscuring the archway began to rise to either side of their own accord. Golden cords hanging from the sides of the arch whipped up and secured the curtains in an open position.

Behind the clear archway stood five alluring women dressed in flowing gowns of gold-embroidered crimson velvet and silk with sharply plunging necklines, showing an alarming amount of deathly pale cleavage. All five had their hair done up in elaborate coils and festooned with ornaments. Each woman wore an impressive ensemble of ruby-and-gold jewellery.

"Look, sisters, we have a visitor," the woman in the middle said.

"The first man we've had in this castle besides Master," the one to her left crooned.

The woman on the right end of the row giggled, "He's rather good-looking."

This was followed by a chorus of feminine teasing and giggling. Suddenly, the woman in the middle stopped laughing. In an instant, all the mirth bubbling from the five women vanished. Dark, threatening silence loomed between D and the mistresses of the castle.

"Dhampir," the one in the middle said. Her voice was deeper and deadly serious, sharply contrasting with her high-pitched, mischievous tone from earlier. "You're a hunter, and you're here for our Master."

"That means you have to die," one of her companions hissed.

"It's nothing personal, you see," another explained. "We're bound to serve him forever. That includes killing off any hunters who come to kill him, no matter how handsome."

Without warning, all five women lunged at D in a whirl of red fabric. They pounced, screeching deafeningly, upon the spot where he stood and tried to tear him apart with their long scarlet nails. Only then did they realise that he was no longer there. There was a moment of stunned silence. And it was then that the last strains of the sword's song trailed away.

D, standing under the archway with his back to the vampire women, turned the sword in his hands so that the blood glistening on its blade showed. There was a single, blood-curdling scream that was quickly choked out. Cold blood splattered the faces of four of the women. The fifth one fell dead with a stab wound in her chest that went right through her heart.

The remaining four began shrieking again. They were filled with rage. But now, there was also fear in their eyes as they leapt at D once more. This time, everything happened before they even landed on the carpeted floor.

Once again D vanished from sight. He reappeared in mid-leap, right in front of another of the women. His sword sang loudly as he brought it down in a long vertical cut, cleanly bisecting the unfortunate vampire. Without pause, he twisted around in the air and made a diagonal upwards slash, cutting apart another of his adversaries. Before the blood could even spray, he reversed his stroke in a horizontal circular slash, taking off the head of the next opponent. Then he drew his sword back close to his body, its point aimed forward.

The sword sang once more as two pairs of feet touched the ground – D's and the last vampire's. D stood behind the woman, his sword impaling her between the shoulder blades. He pulled out his gore-stained weapon, and she fell. As she did, he touched the flat of his blade to her sleeve. By the time she hit the ground, his sword was clean.

D looked around at the mangled corpses at his feet. The five women had not been changed long enough for their bodies to turn to dust upon death. Two had been stabbed through the heart, and another two had had their hearts cut in two along with their bodies. That left the headless one. Merciless as a vampire hunter had to be, D went over to the decapitated body, holding his sword point-down. The gleaming blade descended sharply.

Flicking the new splotches of blood off the end of his sword, D sheathed it and continued through the archway. Not once did he look back at the cadavers he had left on the floor, or the bloodstains he had left on the wall.


	11. Burial

**The Legend I**

Once Bitten

_Vampire Hunter D Fan Fiction_

_# I keep giving late releases. I'm so sorry. I've been out of the house a lot this week, so I haven't had much time to write. Anyway, here's the last chapter of Once Bitten, also the shortest chapter in the entire story, for some unfathomable reason. It just turned out really ... succinct. Please forgive me if it's god-awful in addition to being horrendously late! I'll make up for it with the sequel, I promise! The name of the sequel is Tainted Angel, and if all goes well I'll have the first chapter up within the next two weeks or so._

**Chapter 11: Burial**

Passing through the second-floor hallway, D arrived in the castle's dining room. It was another huge room, with a long table of sold varnished wood that could seat fifty. Each place at the table was set with gold cutlery and fine porcelain crockery.

At the head of the table, across the huge room from D, was a throne-like seat, carved from gold, padded with velvet and encrusted with jewels. It was empty, but the two chairs on the immediate right and left of it were occupied by a pair of young women in simple white dresses. Both had sunken, listless eyes bordered with dark circles, lank, lifeless hair and gaunt, pale faces. Their throats were marked with a pair of puncture marks each.

They were the vampire's latest victims from the village. They had been bitten, and had passed into the stage where life had all but drained from their bodies. The only thing ahead of them now was the full change that had yet to overcome them. A couple more bites, and they would become like the five that D had killed back on the landing. Even if the vampire responsible were killed now, they would never be normal again; they had already become doxies.

Neither of the women seemed to notice D's presence. Both of them simply sat stiffly in their chairs, swaying from side to side ever so slightly. They were a pitiful sight.

D was a vampire hunter, and he knew what he had to do. He stepped forward and began to walk across the room.

A minute or so later, he passed through the door on the other side of the room. Back in the dining room, the two women were slumped over the table as if asleep. Each bore a neat stab wound on the left side of her chest.

The room behind the dining room was a large, square ballroom. A thick layer of dust coated the high-quality marble dance floor. Heavy velvet drapes blocked out the light coming in from the large windows. As the door swung shut behind D, everything became pitch-dark.

Without warning, the huge chandelier set in the high, dome-like ceiling of the ballroom flared to life, filling the room with yellow light. Standing in the centre of the dance floor was the vampire Ferrucio. There was recognition on his face as he gazed upon D.

"So we meet again, dhampir," he said in a voice that reverberated around the entire ballroom. "And now I know who you are. You are the vampire hunter D. Where's the girl? She's not … _ill_, is she?"

D knew perfectly well what the smooth-talking vampire meant by 'ill'. But he refused to take the bait. He did not even respond to the jibe. He simply drew his sword.

"It seems that we were never meant to get along, dhampir," Ferrucio said resignedly. "First my finest catch turns out to belong to you. Then you kill my wives and my new brides-to-be. Now you're here to kill me."

"You've bitten too many humans in one sitting," D said in his usual quiet, emotionless voice. "You won't get away with it."

D vanished from his position in front of the door. Almost simultaneously, the sharp crash of steel against steel sounded as Ferrucio effortlessly parried D's downwards slash with the black stick he held in his right hand. D's blade and the jewel on the butt end of the walking stick glittered in unison, reflecting the light from the chandelier.

"They are my brides, dhampir," Ferrucio hissed as he blocked another slash and jabbed at D skilfully with the narrow tip of his stick. "My eternal companions."

The two weapons clashed twice more before Ferrucio made a great backwards leap away from D. The transparent jewel on his rod began to glow as he aimed it at D. Suddenly, the white flame within the jewel, as if snuffed out by a splash of water.

Ferrucio landed on the opposite side of the ballroom, staring disappointedly at his weapon. Then he looked up at D and noticed that the blue jewel hanging from the hunter's neck was glowing slightly. His eyes narrowed.

"So I can't use vampire technology against you, eh?" he said. "Well, then."

The white light reappeared in the core of the jewel as Ferrucio raised the stick to point at the chandelier right above D. A bar of white light shot from the jewel and struck the heavy chandelier. There was a small explosion at the point of impact. Then the light fixture began to fall.

With a resounding crash, the chandelier hit the floor. The room shook with the impact, and cracks appeared on the floor. D appeared right in front of Ferrucio, slashing straight down with his sword. Before the blade made contact, Ferrucio leapt back, moving so fast that he too seemed to be disappearing and reappearing at another spot.

Keeping his distance, Ferrucio blasted the ceiling above D, causing large chunks of stone to rain down on the dhampir. D dodged the falling rubble and closed the distance again, slashing this time from earth to sky. Ferrucio avoided his blade easily and moved away once again to continue making bits of the ceiling fall down on D.

The fight continued like this for several minutes. Neither D nor Ferrucio bore any significant wounds. It was a stalemate; the only loser was the ceiling, which was close to crumbling to pieces.

Then D leapt by one of the windows and made a horizontal cut as he passed. The curtain fell away with the sound of ripping fabric, and the last rays of the evening sun streamed in through the dusty glass. Ferrucio reeled back, momentarily blinded. Flames crackled to life on his clothes – he was beginning to burn.

With a roar of rage and pain, the blinded Ferrucio blasted blindly with the jewel on his walking stick in all directions. Explosions rocked the room, and craters dotted the walls and floor. The floor, already weakened from the impact of the falling chandelier, gave way with a deafening series of cracks. Both D and Ferrucio fell through the crumbling floor.

As he fell, D kicked off the falling bit of floor he had been standing on. The force of his jump brought him to Ferrucio. Before the disoriented vampire could react, D ran him through the heart.

Ferrucio's eyes shot wide open in shock. Then he mumbled, "So this is the end of it, the end of the lonely eternity. I only wished for companions to pass it with. Have you ever thought about what eternal life means, hunter? It means that you live on and on … and eventually you run out of things to see and do. Without company, you just get tired of it …"

Joined by the sword in D's hand, which impaled Ferrucio through the chest, the vampire and the hunter fell into the hall below the ballroom. At the last moment, D pulled out his sword and jumped back, landing on his feet. Ferrucio crashed to the floor on his back.

Huge chunks of rubble rained down from above. One fell on Ferrucio, but his body had already begun to turn to dust. The entire room shook. Cracks were spreading along the floor and up the walls. D started to run across the large square hall towards the double doors on the other side as the walls caved in around him.

* * *

Vianne woke up in a shabby, not-too-comfortable bed with a thin mattress and threadbare sheets. A damp cloth had been laid across her forehead. Pulling it off, she sat up. Her entire body felt weak and lethargic, but at least she no longer felt like she was burning up inside. She looked down at herself. There were no longer any wounds on her body – the skin showing through the rips and tears in her clothes were completely smooth and unmarred. 

She looked around. She was in a tiny room with a low ceiling. Besides the narrow bed, a small wooden wardrobe was the only piece of furniture in the room. The rest of the space could be covered in two or three steps.

There was a click, and the door opened with a loud creak. An aged priest stood in the doorway, wearing a faint benevolent smile on his wrinkled face.

"You're awake, I see," he said in a gentle voice. "I do hope you're feeling better. I took the liberty of having the village doctor give you a shot for your fever."

Vianne said nothing, perhaps because she was unable to. Her mind was horribly, cruelly clear. She could remember everything; the sight of Marcus being shot down by his own neighbours replayed itself in crystalline detail over and over in her head. And where was D?

It seemed that the priest could see the unspoken question in her eyes, for he said, "Your companion is on a mission at the vampire castle across the valley from here. He's entrusted you into my care while he does his job. You can go outside and have a look at the castle if you like, but perhaps you would like to change into some clean clothes first?"

He paused and gestured at the wardrobe. A mournful note entered his voice as he said, "There used to be a novice here, some years ago. She was a delightful child, but a terrible sickness took her to meet the Lord early in her life. This was her room, and her clothes are still in that wardrobe. Everything here is free for you to use until the hunter returns for you. Rest well, child."

With that, the priest backed out of the tiny room and shut the door. Quietly, Vianne got out of bed and opened the wardrobe. The doors creaked, like the floorboards beneath her feet. Within the wardrobe hung the habit of a novice. A few sets, actually. Carefully avoiding the simple crucifix pendant – it made her uncomfortable – hanging from a hook by its chain, Vianne slipped out of her own tattered clothes and changed into the garments of an initiate of the house of God.

When she was done, Vianne went to the door and opened it, stepping outside. She was standing beside a confession booth in a corner of a cathedral. The simple altar was to her left, and the empty pews were arranged in neat rows ahead.

Cautiously, she walked past the pews and slipped out into the churchyard. A few passers-by on the street outside the fence gave her suspicious glances, but she ignored them and looked around. There was a small outbuilding to one side of the main chapel building; no doubt that was where the old priest slept.

A low rumbling, like that of distant thunder, caused Vianne and all the villagers to look up, over the roofs of all the houses, at the imposing silhouette of the castle on the hill in the distance. Large clouds of smoke seemed to be rising up around the castle, and it seemed to be sinking lower. Vianne's eyes widened as she realised what was happening. The castle was collapsing, and the smoke was actually clouds of dust stirred up by falling debris.

The priest had said that D was at that castle! Lifting her skirts off the ground, Vianne ran down the street past the open-mouthed villagers. Without stopping for breath, she charged right out of the village gates and into the open field beyond. There, she stopped and watched, trembling with a sense of foreboding, as the castle fell apart.

* * *

D reached the doors and flung them wide open with a single push without slowing down. Abruptly, he jerked to a halt and jumped back as the corridor ahead collapsed, sending debris tumbling into the hall. 

When he landed, he was forced to perform a lightning-quick roll to avoid the pillar that was falling upon him. The rubble was forming an impenetrable barricade around him, and more still was falling from above. He was trapped.

Then an unusually large piece of stone fell across the open gap above D, sealing off all the light. Nothing more could be seen in the blackness as the rest of the castle fell to pieces and crashed to earth.

* * *

The people of the small hamlet in the valley stopped in their daily chores and exchanged uneasy glances with their neighbours as the girl who lived under the care of the old priest in the small local church walked past them. The girl who had been brought here ill and unconscious, and entrusted to the priest by the dhampir hunter they had hired. The girl who had never spoken a word since regaining consciousness, who wore the habit of a novice but uttered no prayer and wore no cross. The girl who always wore a black cloth band on her left wrist. 

They all knew where she was going. She was headed for the open large open field just outside the hamlet, the field that lay between the hamlet and the collapsed ruins of the old vampire castle on the top of the highest hill. She went there every day.

When the castle had collapsed, nearly six months ago, the girl had begged the priest, in writing, to help her erect an empty grave out in that field. He had acquiesced. From that time onwards, she visited the grave every evening at dusk.

Every evening, she would stand in front of the plain grey headstone with no cross, sometimes glancing up at the vanquished castle. The words engraved on the stone were simple:

_Vampire Hunter D__  
May he never be forgotten._

The nameless girl would stand there until the stars came out. She was not afraid of the dark. Even with the recent rumours about the shadowy figure spotted near the grave late at night, she still visited and stayed until after dark.

Today, the sun was still in the sky when she arrived at the grave. Her cold, listless eyes sparked to life when she spotted something white fluttering in the chilly wind that swept past. It was a piece of cloth, trapped under a small pebble at the foot of the tombstone. She bent and picked it up.

There were three words written on the small scrap of fabric. _Wait for me_.

* * *

The priest looked up in surprise when the door opened and the girl he had promised the hunter he would take care of walked into the chapel. The sky outside was still tinged with the last rays of the setting sun. She had never returned so early before.

His surprise did not end there. When he looked at her face, he saw that she was smiling. It was not a joyous smile. It was a slight, close-lipped smile of serene acceptance. Yet it lent her usually expressionless face a radiance that finally made the priest realise what a pretty child she was.

"Have you found peace now, my child?" he asked gently.

"Vianne," she said instead of answering his question. It was the first time he had heard her voice. "My name is Vianne, Father."

- END -


	12. Author's Note

**The Legend I**

Once Bitten

_Vampire Hunter D Fan Fiction_

_# This is NOT a chapter._

**Author's Note**

Hey all! Welcome to the end of the first arc of The Legend! First of all I really want to thank those who have been reading, reviewing and supporting this story all this while. I really hope you all liked it. Do look out for the next instalment, Tainted Angel, which will be up once I've finished prepping it.

Well, if you've read the summary, you would know that The Legend is a seven part series. If I were you, I'd go, "What the (insert expletive)! Seven freaking parts? How long is this damn story?"

Time for some explanation. I made The Legend such a terribly long series because I'm experimenting with a gradual genre change thing. Basically, the stories making up The Legend will focus on different aspects of the story as we move along the series. Notice the conspicuous lack of open romance? I mean, besides the horrid crude rape scenes and all. Well, it's going to come in bit by bit as we progress along the series (Gasp! Spoiler!). I read some of my old, unreleased stories, and realised that I often jump too quickly into making characters fall in love and such. Becomes rather shallow, really.

I like to think of The Legend as seven short, related stories, rather than one long story broken into seven parts. Obviously some things that I've introduced in earlier parts of the series are going to have a certain impact on later parts, but as far as possible the seven stories will be able to stand alone, with flashbacks and such inserted here and there to serve that purpose. Even if you've read the earlier ones before, hell, who on earth memorises seven stories' worth of content? Refreshers are always good.

Enough of series introduction. I'm probably boring you all to death. Besides, you'll see it all for yourself as the rest of the series comes out. I will now proceed to bore you to death by talking about this particular story instead.

For those who watch anime, perhaps you've noticed that Once Bitten runs a little like a mini-anime of words. It starts and ends with a basic and (dare I say it?) rather boring main plot (the vampire Casanova thing). There's a filler in the middle, which is the bit with the village and poor Marcus. I actually find the filler more meaningful and enjoyable to read and write, but whatever. Screw my lousy judgement.

Theme analysis! No, this is not a literature essay. I just feel like doing this. Yes, you have permission to think I'm weird. The main plot, as you can see towards the end, deals with an overarching theme of eternity and companionship, which you will see more of throughout the series. That's why it's the main plot, you see, even though it's not all that great. Typical vampire-slaying stuff. And then you have that wonderful filler, which I'm considerably prouder of, going on about hasty judgements and slamming the whole eye-for-an-eye thing. I'll find more themes to slot in as fillers in the following stories. Ha! I'm on a quest to make fillers more interesting than the main plot. Go me.

This bore-you-to-death session is now officially over, congratulations if you survived. I'll work hard to finish the rest of the series, and I hope I do well enough to keep all of you reading till the very end.

Cheers,

-RiP-Vii

P.S. As a (dubious) bonus for reading through that load of crap, I will now bequeath upon you the almighty secret of … the rest of the titles for the series! Wow! Right, whatever. I'm rolling my eyes at myself. Not a good sign. The titles given here are unconfirmed, since I only have the concepts for the individual stories. But I'm "sneak-releasing" them anyway, so that I can feel all important and sought-after and stuff. Ego-boosting tricks, you know?

The Legend I: Once Bitten

The Legend II: Tainted Angel

The Legend III: Dream Walker

The Legend IV: Siren Song

The Legend V: Funeral Bell

The Legend VI: Final Peace

The Legend VII: Legendary (?!)

P.P.S. This is to explain the (?!) notation. The last title is the most tentative of all, because … come on, "The Legend, part seven, Legendary!" sounds positively silly. Go figure.


End file.
